


Recon

by Novaspark



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:40:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 226,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2807900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novaspark/pseuds/Novaspark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after 'Predacons Rising', Knock Out and Arcee are both still suffering from their loses post-war. Together, they decide to team up to bring a resolution to their pain and it just so happens, they both agree this means hunting down Airachnid! An Autobot and an ex-Decepticon learn more about each other, including secrets from the past along the way, but they also might discover certain loses are not quite what they seem and may not be lost forever...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude: Repraisal

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, welcome to my story! I hope all of you will enjoy what I have to offer. Feedback is always appreciated and kudos are much loved. :)
> 
> \- This story takes place after the final movie, 'Predacons Rising'.  
> \- There will always be a 'flashback' at the end of every chapter (not including the prelude).
> 
> I would like to make a note to thank my kind friend, grayseeker, for allowing me to bounce around ideas and brainstorm anything transformers related. Additionally, I am grateful for her lending her amazing skills by going over this chapter. (Do check out her stories!!)
> 
> Thank-you!

“… And this last one is for good, old Sea Spray.” Wheeljack lifted his final ball of light and released the memento into the sky. With a heavy sigh, he stepped back to join the group. 

The mech was really starting to show his age, Knock Out observed. Now that the old warrior wasn’t constantly seeking out the next fight, Knock Out could better witness the slowness in his step, the creasing of his faceplate around his eyes and the way he would just stand and just… look _old_. Knock Out took too much pride in his appearance to allow battle scars and age show on his frame. 

Optics sweeping from Wheeljack to the rest of the audience, Knock Out noticed how everyone was now entranced in a silent revere. Following their gaze, he too lifted his helm to the sky. All together, the survivors of Team Prime watched the last light trail languidly into the darkened sky to join its countless brethren. It should have been a miraculous sight to behold, so many lights making their way to the infinite, but the connotation of their circumstance was altogether grim. Each one of those tiny lights, some now but specks against the canvas of space, was a lost spark- a lost friend- _someone_ lost to the war.

Boring. Wheeljack had made sure he had mentioned each and every bot he had ever locked optics with. Knock Out was starting to get stiff in his struts from standing. It’s not like he had known anyone Wheeljack mentioned. It was completely irrelevant to him. What did he care for Sea Spray? Did anyone here? What Knock Out should have done was just pull up a seat and start work on keeping his digits sharp. 

He scanned each member of Team Prime- Bulkhead had jabbered on a lot too, often crossing bots with Wheeljack and making the memorial longer than what Knock Out deemed necessary. Ultra Magnus had gone on for awhile, mentioning a lot of stuffy names Knock Out felt exhausted just listening to. Arcee, too, had quite the receipt of dead ones. It baffled Knock Out. Did any of these bots really know all the of the deceased that well? How could one bot even remember so many names let alone feel connected to this many? Why did this group of bots feel the need to mention each and every bot they had ever known? Pious guilt, he surmised. Clearly, it was better to lack it, as he felt he did. Surely, it made life easier. 

Ratchet, for all the years he had on even Wheeljack, had barely mentioned anyone. Although- he had lifted one for someone whose name he barely whispered to the light, a secret shared between the two. The look of pain on his faceplate had resonated profoundly with Knock Out, provoking him to reflect inward. Yes, it was recognisable- it was that _exact_ look of pain that was so familiar to him. Out of anything anyone had said at the memorial, it was this, Ratchet’s near silence, that most resembled his own emotions. It wasn’t just about loss, like the others and their impossible list of dead bots, it was a specific loss, a loss that still persisted. Perhaps he and the Autobot medic were more similar than he had previously thought? 

Then there was Bumblebee. The young mech had given a light to his sires, even if he didn’t know who they were. Knock Out’s optics then rested on Smokescreen, whose constant fidgeting was somehow going unnoticed by the Autobots- or perhaps they were just ignoring him too. Smokescreen, who was younger than Bumblebee even, didn’t seem to be taking the memorial seriously. Albeit on a different wavelength than Knock Out. 

As monotonous as the memorial was for Knock Out, it still raised a conclusion he could hardly accept; the war was over. Really and truly _over_. Knock Out glanced over to the remaining Autobots. Who could have known that with a war consisting of millions of Autobots, it had only taken these seven to take Megatron down? Knock Out would never have guessed it would have ended in that way. For a fleeting moment, he felt humbled to be in the presence of the bots who had managed to bring upon the end of the war. Well, there had been one other member of the Team who had definitely made all the difference- their leader. His light was now leading the rest. Knock Out now watched the lights grow fainter, each one representing a specific bot. No, he’d never expected it. A shudder ran through his frame as he suddenly realised, despite all the bots he stood with, how alone he was. He hadn’t been expecting that either.

Knock Out knew his being at the memorial was not ideal for most of these bots, and he had been the only defectee who’d been allowed to attend. It hadn’t even been a whole orn since the war had come to its climactic end, since Optimus Prime had decided to willingly take a dive into the Well of Allsparks thus creating new life in addition to restoring their planet. It had been an amazing sight to behold, a real slice of history. As each new sparkling flew out of the well, Knock Out had marvelled at all the little glowing balls of light shooting through the sky, each one a new hope for the future. Had all the new sparklings been those lost to the war, now reborn and given the chance to live a life of peace? That’s what Bumblebee had wondered aloud. Knock Out wasn’t quite sure he believed that philosophy. It had been a nice thought, at the very least.

In the time since the great Prime had died, Bumblebee had risen to leadership. Immediately, he had appointed Ultra Magnus to tightly enforce the rules. Ultra Magnus might be quite the amazing mech, frame-wise, Knock Out could admit, but the bot was as dull to deal with as watching metal corrode. Knock Out had rapidly concluded that he couldn’t deal with Ultra Magnus’ lack of humour. And he didn’t find it the _least_ bit funny that one of the new rules happened to be his terms of probation. For instance, how Knock Out was confined to just two quadrants of the _Nemesis_ : the section containing the medbay, and the one containing his habitation suite. He was denied access to the bridge and forbidden to leave the _Nemesis_ unless accompanied by an Autobot. 

That was why Knock Out had welcomed the invitation to attend the memorial. He had been in the medbay at the time, going through his stock, taking inventory of those few supplies the Autobots had left him with after having confiscated more than just a few. He had been tsking bitterly to himself on the state of his medical storage when the leader himself, Bumblebee, had dropped by unexpectedly. He’d informed Knock Out of the upcoming memorial and extended the invite. It seemed like a benevolent gesture, but Knock Out had taken note of how the young bot, younger than himself, had stood in the doorway the whole time with Ultra Magnus lingering, expressionless, behind him. Neither of them bothered to step inside. Then the two had left, leaving Knock Out to himself, as every Autobot did. 

No, Knock Out hadn’t accepted the invite because he felt it to be the stirring, spiritual connection and source of emotional support that the others regarded it to be, but simply because it felt good to stretch his pedes and see something other than the _Nemesis’_ walls. Plus there was watching all the Autobots. Observing how they interacted with one another was mildly interesting. Getting to know his new teammates, it was healthy for him, right? He vented deeply. ‘ _Teammates_ ’. He added an optic-roll to that vent.

“Bumblebee,” Ratchet murmured, breaking the silence gracefully. “I’m going to head back to Hanger E. Would you operate the spacebridge for me?”

“Of course, Ratchet,” Bumblebee replied.

“You don’t want to hang around a little longer?” Bulkhead asked.

“No, no,” Ratchet waved a hurried hand. “I need to return to the sparklings.”

Thank Primus Knock Out wasn’t on sparkling duty! He watched as Ratchet and Bumblebee walked off conversing in hushed voices as they went.

“Well, it was a touching ceremony,” Wheeljack said gruffly. “But we should all get back to work.” 

“Agreed,” Ultra Magnus chimed. “We have a lot to achieve before the sparklings are ready to transform.”

“Wait a minute,” Bulkhead said while looking over each member of Team Prime. He turned to Smokescreen and asked, “How about you? Anybot you wanna give a light to?”

Knock Out’s optics instantly deviated to the bot just mentioned. 

“Well I don’t know anyone who died in the war,” Smokescreen replied jauntily. “I mean, other than Optimus, and Alpha Trion, I guess. But it’s just been me guarding the library then BAM! Millions of years of sleep later, I’m here with you guys!” A few groans came from the small group. “We just did a tribute to Optimus, so I dunno if there’s anyone else I can think of!”

“Lucky you,” Bulkhead grumbled mostly to himself though it was clearly audible to all.

Smokescreen chuckled nervously. “Hey, come on. The war wasn’t that big of a deal to me, I mean, you guys know what I’m saying, right?”

“Listen, kid,” Wheeljack interjected, “A simple no would have been good enough. Some of us have seen hundreds of friends slain in the course of a joor.”

“It’s fine,” Knock Out spoke up, cutting Wheeljack off. Suddenly, all optics were on him… the ex-Decepticon. Had they forgotten he had been with them the whole time? “I’m not mentioning anyone either.”

There was an awkward pause. Smokescreen, who was taller than Knock Out, looked down giving him a sidelong look. He grimaced uncomfortably.

“Yeah,” Smokescreen said, “but it’s not because I didn’t care about anyone.” 

If Knock Out’s surprise showed on his faceplate, no-one appeared to be noticing. 

“I was barely in the war as it was, right?” Smokescreen blundered on. He was now speaking to everyone but Knock Out.

“As you keep saying,” Arcee spoke. So tiny, she almost blended in with the large bots she stood next to. Knock Out realised he had lost track of her presence. Like him, she had been quiet for most of the memorial, having only spoken when it had been her turn to mention those she’d lost. Now, Knock Out realised that he was being studied by those acute optics of hers. Had she possibly witnessed his expression fall or taken note on how he’d stepped backwards? 

Arcee continued addressing Smokescreen. “Since you keep reminding us that your part in this ceremony is over," she said, "You can carry these containers of light back into the ship. While you’re at it, you can start hauling out all the building equipment.”

Smokescreen groaned. “Seriously!?”

“Come on, kid,” Bulkhead strode over to the metal containers and lifted two of them easily. “I’ll make it easy on you and take these.”

Taking the lead, Bulkhead began lumbering towards the ship. Before Smokescreen joined him, he gave one last awkward glance at Knock Out who broke the contact almost right away, looking down at the ever-fascinating ground. 

“Medic.” Ultra Magnus stirred Knock Out from succumbing any further to his thoughts. “I will lead you back to your suite.”

Disposition doing a one-eighty, Knock Out smirked and rolled his optics. He held out his servos and feigned a venting sigh. “Take me back to my cell, prison guard,” he responded dramatically. He couldn’t help but chide, “But, please, don’t be so _rough_ this time.”

He watched, chuckling to himself, as Ultra Magnus glared at him with hatred. Without waiting for the enforcer to lead him away, Knock Out waved a cocky good-bye to the remaining Autobots. Out of the corner of his optics, he noticed Wheeljack and Arcee exchanged what might have been doubtful looks. What did Knock Out care what they thought, or any of them for that matter, if none of them were ever going to accept his presence? Was it the return of that pious guilt that made the difference in treatment between Knock Out and the defectee Vehicons?

Knock Out was about to look away, when he caught Arcee’s optics. Knock Out reconsidered how she studied him earlier when he had stupidly attempted to speak up. In that brief scrutiny, Knock Out realised it was the only time he had literally felt visible to any of the Autobots. He wasn’t sure what to make of it yet.

Shaking his helm, Knock Out resigned himself to his current lifestyle and stepped back into the darkened halls of the _Nemesis_.


	2. The Video |&| Free & Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcee discovers she and Knock Out have more in common that she ever imagined- such as their shared hatred for Airachnid!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first full chapter for this story. :) Thanks again to my friend, grayseeker, for going over this chapter and always listening to me jabber on about possible ideas!
> 
> \- Each chapter has its own title and the title of the flashback. I hope I wrote it in a clear way!
> 
> Reviews are greatly appreciated and kudos are much loved, thank-you!

“Okay, okay! I get it, I’m sorry.” Smokescreen wailed, “I wasn’t trying to be rude!”

“We get that you weren’t _trying_ to, but a lot of us lost some really good bots in the war. Use a little tact!” Bulkhead rumbled. With a grunt, he lifted one of the heavy containers Smokescreen had just dragged over and heaved it onto the anti-gravity dolly. “Just hand me that other container and we’ll bring these outside.”

Arcee watched, amused, as Smokescreen scuttled over to the last box and used all of his strength to drag the last container over to Bulkhead. Busy herself, she started collecting tool kits from the shelves within her reach.

“I wasn’t even going to say anything,” Smokescreen continued, proving he still hadn’t mastered tact in the astrosecond since Bulkhead had asked him to consider it. “But you asked! What was I supposed to say?”

“It was a memorial!” Bulkhead exclaimed. Clearly, he didn’t have an answer and was only airing his grievances with the impulsive young mech. “Here…” Growing impatient, Bulkhead lumbered over to the container and plucked it out of Smokescreen’s straining grasp as if it weighed nothing. Smokescreen didn’t look the least bit fazed by what could have been a blow to his ego. Instead, he looked nothing but awed at the larger mech's strength. Another grunt and Bulkhead slammed the final container on the rest.

“You think that’s all the equipment we need for now?” Smokescreen asked. From the other side of the room, Arcee curiously watched how the doors on his back fluttered a little in excitement. She had never noticed Bumblebee being able to do the same with his. “What about the demolition boxes?”

“Nah,” Bulkhead replied. He looked around the storage garage one last time. “We’ll be fine with just these for- ”

“I’ll get this one going then! Okay, which button makes it follow…” Smokescreen examined the anti-gravity dolly’s control panel.

“Hey, kid, there’s some delicate equipment we can’t replace in there.” Bulkhead called, “Maybe you should just let me-”

Smokescreen waved a hand and clicked his glossa impatiently. “I can do it, it’s just one button, let’s see…”

“No!” Bulkhead yelped.

Arcee barely had time to turn back around and witness Smokescreen hitting the wrong button. Bulkhead dove forwards, arms spread ready to take the brunt of the weight, but it was his loud shout that rattled the whole room that told Arcee he was half an astrosecond too short. She flinched from the loud sound of crashing containers. When the aftermath had subsided, Arcee turned to witness the damage. Bulkhead’s pede was stuck underneath a mass of containers and the dolly.

Moaning, Bulkhead shoved the containers off his pede. Arcee and Smokescreen were instantly by his side helping.

“Sorry, Bulk!” Smokescreen fretted. “That was an accident.”

“Good! I’d hate to see what you can do if you were really trying to maim me,” Bulkhead admonished.

“Are you alright? How many digits am I holding up?” Arcee asked.

“Not sure,” Bulkhead said. “But... Augh…” He had just cleared the final container off of his pede and revealed a deep dent. “Well, there’s that.”

Arcee reached out and touched the dent. “I’ll get Knock Out,” she said. Both mechs just stared at her, optics wide. “What?” she asked.

Bulkhead shook his helm and looked away irritably. “Aw, why can’t we just get Ratchet?”

“Knock Out’s our medic now,” Arcee replied. “You know Ratchet requested some time away. We’re lucky he even agreed to take on all the sparklings.”

“Well, I’m not going to go get him.” Bulkhead said while scruitinising his dented pede.

Still wide-eyed, Smokescreen raised his servos defensively. “Me either! There’s something crazy about that ‘con.”

“Smokescreen," Arcee said, crossing her arms, "He’s not a Decepticon anymore. We’re all one team now. Optimus said so.”

But still Smokescreen resisted. “You don’t shut off crazy!" he cried. "He tried to dissect me!”

She let out a frustrated vent. “From what I recall you saying," Arcee began, "He could have _killed_ you, but opted for using the phase shifter to get the iacon key from inside you instead. Why don’t you consider that?” 

"Because I don't trust him, that's why," Smokescreen explained crudely.

"Me either," Bulkhead added. "But then I never did even from the very beginning. I told Brea-"

"I mean, he's totally creepy," Smokescreen prattled on. "He joined the 'cons for a reason. Just cos he's a doctor doesn't make him trustworthy. He may say he's an Autobot but c'mon, let's be real, how can you just _change_ because a war is over?”

Before Arcee had time to reflect on that statement, Bulkhead interrupted her thoughts as he attempted to get to his pedes. Backing up in case he toppled over, Arcee stared up at him.

“Just go get him,” Bulkhead grunted defensively. “I’ll be fine, but I’ll need the doc to get this dent out.”

“Well if I’m the only warrior here brave enough to go get our own medic, then I guess I will,” she huffed. She waited for either of the two to disagree with her, but when neither did, she rolled her optics. “ _Mechs_ …” she muttered.

 

Standing at the central console of the _Nemesis’_ bridge, Arcee scanned the central map. Since the Autobots had only had the ship for a short time and it was still unfamiliar to them, they always left the map up for easy access. For the most part, the Autobots had adjusted to living on the warship, but standing where Soundwave had always worked in his little operations nook was still eerie for her. No, the _Nemesis_ wasn’t quite home.

There. Knock Out’s habitation suite.

She had already checked the empty medbay and it was the only other place the medic could be. Arcee knew Knock Out had very limited mobility on the ship. Most areas were blocked off to him, but he did have more permission than the vehicons. She knew that the Autobots would have to start allowing more trust to the willing defectees otherwise they could run the risk of the vehicons coming to resent their living situation. Plus, the Autobots needed all the help they could get. However, the atmosphere was still a little tense, especially knowing Megatron had been revived from the dead- even if he had promised to start anew. Then there was Starscream and Shockwave… no, the threats were not all gone yet.

Committing the map to memory, Arcee walked along the halls of the _Nemesis_ , she couldn’t shake the feeling of being engulfed by the sheer size of the halls. She never really felt tiny next to all the mechs despite being aware of the size difference, but here on the _Nemesis_ , she suddenly felt insignificant. Was there at least a way to make it brighter in here? And perhaps little less ominous?

Alone for for the first time since the memorial, Arcee’s thoughts immediately went to what she had been purposely blocking since the event. Now that she had nothing to distract herself with, Smokescreen’s words rippled to the forefront of her thoughts: _‘How can you just change because a war is over?’._

The memorial had clearly had no effect on Smokescreen. Wheeljack and Bulkhead, were frustrated with Smokescreen’s unintended indifference, and of course, Arcee understood that. But what disturbed her the most was how there was such a strong voice inside her that not only sympathised, but mirrored the lethargy.

Smokescreen was right. How does one ‘just change because the war was over’? Did Arcee miss that memo, was she supposed to have felt changed? She didn’t, she told herself, and according to her friends, what she was experiencing… wasn’t _right._

Optics dull, she looked down at the bleak floor, her pedes tapping softly on the metal as she headed towards Knock Out’s suite. The memorial had done nothing for her. But unlike Smokescreen, she had lost many dear to her. That, therein, was the issue.

Frame shuddering, Arcee reached Knock Out’s suite. She placed her servo on the recognition pad but instead of making a chime to ring the doctor, the room whooshed open. Surprised, Arcee wandered in.

“Hello?” Looking around the large suite, she called again. “Knock Out?” There was no response. 

His room seemed pretty standard, at least compared to the one Arcee had. There was a computer, a seating bench to relax and watch the massive screen with a friend or two. A small bar area offered a supply of standard energon.

Heading towards the berthroom on the right, she noticed some old Cybertronian datascrolls for automobile enthusiasts thrown around on the table and some half empty glasses of energon. She had barely approached what had been labeled Knock Out’s berthroom when the doors welcomed her in.

The room before her was luxurious in size, at least compared to Arcee's size. Arcee hesitated, servo on the entry frame. It was clear Knock Out was not in his quarters, but her optics couldn’t resist a lingering sweep of the most personal space belonging to the mysterious Decepticon-recently-turned-Autobot medic. He had always been something of a conundrum for Arcee, that was certain. Perhaps she could glean a little into how he operated.

She studied the objects he kept, which included a full length three paneled mirror and a vanity. Unmarked canisters were stacked neatly on the vanity, only one canister had a recogniseable shape that she recognised containing hi-grade energon. Next to that was a full glass, the liquid coated in dust indicating it had not been touched in a long time. There was also a personal computer station stacked with what seemed to be medical-class datascrolls. The grand-sized berth took up most of the space in the room. Furnished with a lamp, a small counter sat next to the berth with some more reading material and unopened canisters of hi-grade energon. Other than that, there wasn’t much in the way of personal touches. Did Decepticons even hang image cards of friends? Or a better question, did they have friends?

Judging by the thick coating of dust everywhere, the whole room looked as if it had been untouched for a long time. Baffled, Arcee stood giving everything a final sweep. This was definitely Knock Out’s room of residence, but he clearly was not staying here. At least, not in this room.

Glancing around, her gaze fell on the other room across from the berthroom opposite of Knock Out’s. Arcee had barely approached the room when its doors, like all the rest, tempted her inside.

If the first room looked unlived in, this one looked like there had been an squatter living there: it was a complete mess. It was the same size as the other, but somehow, with all the clutter, it felt more claustrophobic. Careful not to shatter any empty hi-grade energon canisters beneath her pedes, Arcee manoeuvred carefully through the war zone. There was enough hi-grade in here to power down the sturdiest of bots! Her optics widened to adjust for the dimly lit room. While datascrolls had been stacked all-too neatly in the adjacent room, here they were scattered on the tables.

Making her way to the berth-side table (and dancing over many more empty hi-grade canisters), Arcee noticed she had been right in her earlier thought. She had noticed how there had been no image cards in the other room, now it dawned on her it might not be because he was a Decepticon after all. Perhaps it was because Knock Out had moved all his image cards _here_. Arcee flicked the lamp on to cast some light into the darkened room. Her sight improved, she looked down at the image cards, shifting them around on the table without lifting them. She bit her lower mouthplate as she considered them.

Most of the image cards appeared to have been taken back on Cybertron, before the war. How old were these exactly?

Knock Out was in most of the images, and in almost every image he was with another bot- one that Arcee recognised despite not having seen him lately. It was that big, blue Decepticon; the one with the hammer for a weapon and a vendetta for Bulkhead specifically. She had no idea where Breakdown had gone in the final days of the war. Bulkhead had not said much after his last fight with him after saving Raf’s house from being blown up. Wherever Breakdown was, he had not been on the ship when the Autobots had done their final sweep of the vessel.

In every image, Arcee could not stop herself from noticing that the two were always smiling. Grinning wide, the two mechs displayed nothing other than simple happiness. It struck Arcee emotionally and she couldn’t help but ask herself when the last time was that she had smiled this innocently? Not weary war smiles, but smiles of naivety for the everyday life. No Cybertronian could smile like this anymore, no, a pure smile was now a myth.

But at one time, these two bots had been able. It was so strange, seeing Decepticons portrayed in the same way Arcee had once lived her own life. It was too easy to think of Decepticons as sparked bad, always scowling, a comical stereotype that war forced you to see through so you could shoot, kill and live to see another orn.

Judging by some of the backgrounds of the photos, Breakdown and Knock Out had not been in the same caste as she had been. There were no luxury mansions nor any gardens filled with harvested alien plants. In one photo, the two were sitting on some iron beams in a construction site while holding up simple energon, in another the two seemed to be outside one of the lower caste districts, if her memory served her right. At least, the condition of the building and lack of paint told her so. And in another… Arcee gasped. Knock Out…

… Had wings?

Yes, clearly, in this photo outside what appeared to be a university. With another bot she had never seen before, he stood proudly grinning with a pair of red, shiny wings behind him.

 _Seeker_ wings.

Seekers had had such a bad reputation even before the war. They had been known for being untrustworthy scavengers always looking for quick shanix. Arcee had only personally known one seeker during her life, and look how _he_ had turned out, she thought. Well, she had known another one too, but he had been different- both in build and in traditions, unlike Knock Out who appeared to be of the most common type. Somehow Knock Out being a seeker by origin did not entirely surprise her. Yet in the duality of it, he also seemed quite the opposite.

How did a seeker like Knock Out become a ground vehicle? It wasn’t a simple matter of just scanning a new vehicle. The wings had probably had to have been removed by surgery. Sure, Arcee had heard tales here and there of such procedures, but even with the distasteful reputation seekers had, most would never give up their gift of flight and their precious ‘culture’ to blend in with and become the general public. Still, Knock Out stood boastfully, wings displayed wide behind him. The taller, white and orange bot next to him held some datascrolls and gave a small, shy smile to the camera.

There was one last image card that she couldn’t resist looking at before prying herself away. Arcee ran her digits over the cracked glass of the decorative casing. None of the other image cards had been mounted in such a way. It appeared to be of Knock Out, again with those seeker wings, and Breakdown in a habitation suite. She shifted at the shattered pieces, trying to make sense of what Breakdown was holding, but it was impossible to decipher, the broken white glass had shattered in pieces too tiny to ever puzzle them back together and solve what mystery each shard held. Whatever it was, Knock Out seemed to be looking up at it with a sense of genuine pride.

Having finished looking through all the image cards, Arcee made her way over to the large table in the centre of the room. There was already a small stepping stool for her to hop onto to better reach the items scattered across the table. Grimacing to herself, she pushed some more sticky, empty hi-grade bottles out of the way. There were endless datascrolls and a few strange medical devices thrown around. Nothing really piqued her interest until she noticed the files listed on the screen.

__

BD_00668

BD_00749

SS_056

And then…

__

AIR_002

Airachnid.

Arcee wasn’t ignorant, she immediately clued in on the pattern. Those weren't just random letters, they clearly stood for the names of bots. Surely, ‘BD’ was Breakdown, ‘SS’ could only be Starscream which left ‘Air’ to be…

Instantly struck, Arcee recognised the tangled emotions of fury and agony boil up and suffocate her, lodging somewhere between her spark and her vocaliser. Dentae gritted, she almost lost her sight in the flash of rage that seized her.

Airachnid. Who had slain Tailgate, who had made a vow to mutilate Jack and even his mother. Airachnid, who had taken so many from her life, even before the war. Arcee was convinced that Airachnid was not unlike Megatron in how much anguish she was responsible for. But unlike Megatron, there had been no profound epiphany, no repentance. In fact, it was a mystery as to where Airachnid even was, which only infuriated Arcee all the more. The war was over and Arcee had to live knowing Airachnid was still out there somewhere, never facing justice.

What was it Smokescreen had said about changing after the war?

The war might be over, but it didn’t matter. Arcee’s unbridled hatred for the spider-bot was as fresh as it had been the day she had murdered Tailgate before Arcee’s very optics. It was with this hatred that she stared, as if in a trance, at the screen, focused solely on that name.

_Airachnid._

She clicked.

It was a video.

Arcee drummed her digits quickly on the counter. Mounting inside, something began to mingle with the hatred. There, inside, a small pit of guilt began to form. What could be stronger than her curiosity driven by hatred? Gritting her dentae, she paused the video.

The guilt made her do it. She shut her optics. Surely, yes, surely, _Optimus Prime_ had a speech somewhere about what she was about to do. Arcee had always impulsively raced after Airachnid, always ignoring Optimus’ hails to cease. Even after he had granted her the status of second in-command, that hatred of hers would always override her responsibility and any reasoning. Here, the voice inside her whispered, she was doing the same thing again. Didn’t she have duty to do better now that Optimus Prime was dead? But then, Tailgate was dead, so were the others Airachnid was responsible for and again, that hatred of hers came to the forefront and clouded her judgment.

Hey, she told herself, it could just end up being some nasty frag tape that she’d regret clicking on. There was no telling if it was anything important at all. Deceiving herself into a recomposing state, Arcee chased away the what ifs, the stern look of disapproval she imagined from Optimus and simply hit play for the second time.

It took a moment for Arcee to recognise the location of the film but with all the medical instruments and med berths in the room, it didn’t take her long. There was only one patient and he was quite resistant to being strapped down in the vertical berth. Arcee recognised the enraged face that was growling from fighting against the restraints binding him down. It was the Decepticon, Breakdown.

“Release me!”

At that moment, the doors to the medbay swooshed open and Knock Out stepped in. He paused by the door and an eerie svoom sound echoed through the now silent room. There would be no escape now that the doctor had locked the medbay. Clearly, this interaction would be meant for just the two of them.

“I said _release me!_ ” Breakdown roared. He threw himself against his bindings but it was clear that the strength of his frame would not be enough to fight his way free.

If Knock Out was intimidated, he did not show it. Calmly and without faltering, he occupied himself with the computer.

“You think I’m afraid?” Breakdown hissed. Even though Arcee hadn’t seen him in orns, there was something off with his vocaliser.

With his back to Breakdown, Knock Out shifted from his computer to a table neatly arranged with what looked like… torture? No, surely just medical equipment. Surely. Arcee eyed the instruments warily. 

She began to shift uncomfortably on the stool. What sort of video was this? Weren’t these two bots on good terms with each other? She had always battled them together for the most part. Though, she pondered, they had not been seen together recently. And what about all those image cards? If they hadn’t been Decepticons, Arcee would have called them _friends_. How had the tables turned so drastically?

“I must know.” Knock Out said as he lifted a nasty looking piece of equipment to the light, allowing Breakdown to see it over his shoulder. A frightening little scare tactic. “What _do_ you think of us? I’m so curious, you know- to get inside that human mind, Silas.”

_Silas!_

No. No that couldn’t be the human who had controlled M.E.C.H. Hadn’t he died when Nemesis Prime had crushed him? The whole base had fallen down on him and yet… A swift servo rose to cover her mouthplate. Arcee felt like she was going to be sick. What culture did this? What twisted mind would cut open a Cybertronian and use them… use them as a _skin suit_? It was beyond morbid. To see Silas talk but to witness Breakdown’s face match his expression, to know it was nothing but a sparkless carcass being manipulated by a parasite inside? No respect, no dignity. No-one did this. _No-one._

So had this been Breakdown’s fate? Had Bulkhead known all along? Was this why he suddenly did not want to talk about his arch-enemy after that last encounter when Bulkhead had saved Raf’s house from being blown to pieces?

“What do I think of you?” Silas repeated. “I think _nothing_ of you.” There was too much confidence in his tone compared to the frightening tool Knock Out lifted into view. He pressed a switch and a burst of electricity coursed erratically through the wickedly curved prongs. Arcee watched as the light reflected off of Knock Out’s optics. He shut it off and placed it back down with the other tools. “You’re just a machine. Go ahead and threaten me by dismantling my limbs. With your kind, it can always be reattached.”

“Machines…” Knock Out mused aloud. He seemed to not have heard any of Silas’ crowing. “What are machines capable of?”

Silas chuckled. “Nothing," he said. "You can only do what you’re programmed to and for your species, that's war. You lack the human touch.”

“Programming...” Knock Out played with a multi-ridged blade, curved as if made for scooping. A blot of energon bubbled from his digit when he lightly grazed one of the ridges. Knock Out wiped his energon on the counter leaving a streak. “Then what do we lack to go beyond that, to be ‘human’?”

“Me," Silas insisted. "That's why you need me on your team. It’s what Optimus Prime has. You machines are incapable of anything of what it takes to be _human_.”

There was a pause. Even though Silas was studying Knock Out’s movements carefully, there wasn’t any way he saw Knock Out’s digits tighten and grip the tool he was holding. So tightly, in fact, that his clawed digits left indents. Nor did Silas witness the doctor close his optics, lift his brows and smile to himself.

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear you say that.” Knock Out turned. Arcee could no longer see Knock Out’s faceplate, but his voice was smothered in a false sweetness. He stepped towards Silas and into the light. “If I lack what it takes to be… _human_ , and I am but a, ah, how should I word it? A _machine_ programmed for _nothing_ but war, then it stands to reason we both know the terms of what is going to happen in this room between the two of us.”

Knock Out strode over to the computer, leaving Silas to grapple for what to say next.

His vocaliser was deep. “Who knows what I’m going to be capable of, as a war machine?" he said. "It seems to imply I have no _empathy_.”

“Don’t toy with me,” Silas spat. “You would never show me any empathy.”

Knock Out continued to listen to Silas but with his optics fixed on the computer screen. “Never?” Knock Out responded.

“It’s like you said, the ‘terms’," Silas said, tensing in his binds. "You’re going to dissect me.”

“Mm.” Knock Out seemed to only be half listening. “Why?”

“Because of the technology!” Silas exclaimed. “Merging a human with one of the dead of your own!”

Knock Out’s optics shuttered.

“You want to harness the technology that M.E.C.H. fostered for your own twisted war-thirsty ways,” the human continued. “You think to create an army of me? The human race to become your new soldier slaves? You are failing to see a bigger picture here!”

Knock Out’s mouthplate curled in disgust- coincidentally, as did Arcee’s. But Knock Out seemed to have dropped his pretense of nonchalance. Now, his deep red optics blazed with nothing but hatred as he turned them to Silas.

“An army… of you.” Knock Out's vocaliser was quiet.

A sinister grin spread on the corpse's faceplate. “But there is something more I can offer your side,” he said.

Knock Out was starting to lose his cool. “You think we would treat our dead like _that?_ ”

Silas chuckled and said, “There is far more potential in my aiding your side willingly than to just replicate this technology I have created.”

Knock Out was at a loss for words. “What makes you think replicating _you_ is the only reason you could be _here?_ You assume too much of what you don’t have the capacity to understand!”

“Capacity to understand?” he mocked with a sneer. “It is your species that is limited by capacity. From my understanding,” Silas leaned forwards within his bonds. “Your species has spent the last six million years in a civil war. If you had any qualities of the human race, your war would be over by now. And that is why Optimus Prime is finally winning.”

“Human race!” Knock Out scoffed, “Because anything other than war must be human- must be your pathetic, miserable, insignificant fragile little species?" He advanced on Silas, as if he was going to forgo the weapons of torture and just slice his pipes right there. "Tell me! What qualities are we Cybertronians only programmed to have? I would love to hear an alien explain to me my species' capacity!”

“Please,” Silas leaned back, beginning to look all too comfortable within his restraints. “There is a computer in your head. M.E.C.H. could pull a few cords in your CPU and we could have you making us toast.”

Knock Out appeared utterly enraged and Arcee wondered what Silas could even be thinking at what he could gain by continuing to insult his captor. Was he not fearful for his life? Could it really be that this human was really that egotistical? Arcee grimaced. It was his own funeral, she surmised.

“So take me back to Megatron,” he continued, revealing the goal to his verbal attack. “I can do more than just unlock secret military weapons. There is much that humans have to offer that you, a species of metal soldiers, are too blind to see.”

“Blind!? The only one here in this room that is blind is _you_ , ‘human’,” Knock Out snarled. “Can you not see me? You clearly can not comprehend any fathomable idea in that tiny brain of yours why you might be on my dissection table! Why I _implored_ Megatron to have you in this room!? You can think of no other reason why that in the _instant_ I heard you speak and heard your voice come out of _those_ pipes that I would bring you to this ship?! None at all!? Only to win a war!?”

Arcee felt stilled in her seat. The bio-lights on Knock Out's back were burning an intense red and his entire frame trembled from his emotions. Yes, emotions that apparently were so sophisticated that only humans could possibly experience them. It was ironic because Silas wasn't describing the Cybertronian race, as he thought with conviction, but clearly, himself. Knock Out was right. Silas was blind to every cue, every tremble in Knock Out’s vocaliser. But according to Silas, Knock Out was nothing more than a product for war. Yes, in this room, there was only one ‘machine’, only one lacking the concept of emotions, and he was the one strapped down to the table.

Knock Out flexed and curved his digits. “Answer me, you disgusting fleshling!” He took a step towards Silas and moved his servo as if he was going to strike him, but pulled back quickly, all in one swift motion. Muttering to himself, Knock Out turned back to the collection of weapons. Although he exhibited less confidence than when he had first entered the room.

Silas began to chuckle, sending unnerving vibrations through Arcee’s frame. The confidence of his sinister laugh, it disturbed her so much that she nearly shut off the video then and there. But there was something about listening to this Silas/Breakdown hybrid that fascinated her in a horrifying way. Of all the things she had seen in this war, this was definitely among the most disturbing.

There was a pause before Silas responded. “I believe you are the answer to that question.”

Knock Out froze. “Pardon?”

“I merely suggest you evaluate the best possible outcome for your side. Come on, use that central motherboard. Look at you. You're exhibiting the central emotion for war, hatred. You, Megatron, all of your kind. If you could call it emotion, but let’s be realistic. What you exhibit is only a simulation of hatred. _Calculate_ what more you could gain with a reasoning beyond that of what you experience! I can help you win!”

The unadulterated fury that flushed Knock Out’s pale faceplate spoke volumes. “ _Big_ mistake,” he hissed, “Your lack of knowledge is positively _hilarious_. How you think you have the upper servo on your logic and yet you just keep on sealing your own fate. You sit there in someone’s body and speak with his mouthplate and look at me through his optics and you _dare_ to insinuate that I lack emotions? No, I find this comedic gold, _Cylas_.”

“Someone else’s body?" There was no understanding in Silas' voice. "It is nothing more than spare parts and extra metal for scrap.”

In one swift, reactive motion, Knock Out slashed Silas across the faceplate. Arcee flinched at the sound of Knock Out’s sharp claws scraping deeply into the orange metal.

Silence followed, but those optics of Knock Out’s, screamed much more. The two stared at each other. A haunted look crossed Knock Out’s faceplate for a moment, but it flickered away the moment Silas’ inclined his head and narrowed his optics.

Knock Out opened his mouthplate to say something but shut it almost instantly. Instead, he said, “Forgive me, human. My war _programming_ must have _glitched_.”

Silas said nothing. 

Was it slowly dawning on him, Arcee wondered? Was this disgusting human even capable of understanding what Knock Out wanted him to understand? It was clear to Arcee that the gist of everything was that Silas could not comprehend that Breakdown- or Knock Out or _any_ ‘transformer’ was a living, feeling species. They could only be war machines to him. Arcee couldn’t understand how Knock Out could emote so vividly and yet Silas could not make that connection that they had feelings just like his own species. But he only saw what he wanted. Surely, at this point, Knock Out was able to understand talking with Silas was pointless.

Stumbling back towards the table filled with torture weapons, Knock Out lifted a frightening, three tiered _something_ with blades. His digit flipped a switch on it and electricity crackled around it. Arcee pulled back in her seat uncomfortably as what looked like relief crossed Knock Out’s face.

“I could ever so easily pluck you out of my _friend_ there and squish your skull between my digits,” the doctor’s vocaliser was heavy as he vented deeply. “But… as he knew _so well_ ,” he brandished the weapon, a sinister chuckle escaping him. “I just take _too much_ pleasure in seeing those on my dissection table beg for mercy.”

That was when the screaming started.

“Do come in.”

Arcee whipped around, gasping in surprise.

Scrap! How long had he been there!?

Flinching, she recognised Knock Out’s short, stocky silhouette in the doorway. He stood there, lit from the habitation room behind him. The light hit droplets of water, giving him a sparkling appearance but brighter than those droplets were his optics. The optics she had just seen searing with hatred on the screen were now staring directly at her, though his expression was, at least, slightly less threatening. Those red lights, typical for seekers, sliced through the darkness with a dominating intensity.

“I was looking for you,” Arcee recovered quickly. Silas’ screams could still be heard from the video, but the two bots did not break their stare. No, that glowing red had too much of a hold on her, as if Knock Out’s gaze was making her feel smaller and smaller for entering his room unannounced. “Uh,” Arcee stammered, “Bulkhead, he dented his pede and-”

A knowing smile spread onto Knock Out’s faceplate. “One moment.” Smoothly, he touched the light switch and strode towards her. Next to her in front of the table, he leaned forwards, just a few inches in front of her and hit the pause button on the video. She had never been this close to the ‘con before outside of a battle and she felt like she should have her weapons out and at the ready. “It’s a bit loud in here,” he finished. “Especially over the sounds of my privacy being violated.” The smile didn’t leave.

Not to be intimidated, Arcee played it cool. She reminded herself he was in no position to threaten her. He had no option other than to be hospitable.

“Terms of your probation state we can come into your suite at any time for any reason.” She faltered. While she didn’t owe the Knock Out kindness, she did acknowledge that she didn’t have to be a hard-aft about having gone through his personal files for no reason other than her own curiosity. “Okay, I shouldn’t have gone through your files-”

“You know… I’ve been a doctor for quite some time, but I wasn’t aware a dented pede was considered an emergency.” Knock Out gave her a last glance as he headed towards one of the shelves. He pulled out a drying cloth to finish drying himself off. Where he stood seemed almost strategic with how the low light from the berth-side lamp highlighted his freshly clean frame and making it glow with allure.

“All right, you caught me,” Arcee said. “I should’ve just waited in the main suite, or outside. But your front door wasn’t locked.”

“I never have visitors anymore.” Knock Out ran the cloth over his chassis for a final dry before shoving it down the laundry chute. She grimaced as she watched his optics scan the room and come to rest on the image cards that she had shifted while going through them. “But waiting would have been ideal.”

“So is this your room now?” Arcee asked, hoping to distract him from drawing the conclusion that she had gone through his cards.

“Hmm?” Knock Out asked, curious.

Arcee shrugged. “Well, the other room didn't look touched, I-”

“Ah, so you’ve been there too, have you?” Arcee wavered. “It’s _all_ my suite.” He narrowed his optics and inclined his helm at her. “Did you need to make a note of this for my ‘probation’?”

“Look, I just-” Knock Out arched his brows, and she subsided. “No,” she said, “I’m sorry.”

“Forgiven.” This ‘con never ceased to surprise her. There was nothing malicious about his comment at all. “Let’s get my equipment, shall we?”

Looking to all the medical devices spread out carelessly on the table, Arcee started to gather them up. Reaching for some more, Knock Out interrupted her.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She turned to him, he stood by the doorway giving her the most bizarre expression. The kind of look you gave a bot when you were concerned for their mental health.

“Your medical equipment,” Arcee explained, sounding baffled. “I’m bringing it? You meant the equipment here, right?”

Knock Out continued to stare at her, then to the medical equipment, then back at her. Still, he looked troubled for her. “No, not that equipment. You, uh, you can put those back. I was speaking of the equipment in the medbay, actually.”

“Sorry,” Arcee dumped the equipment back onto the table. “I don’t know anything about this kind of stuff.”

“You have no idea,” he replied, an amused smile spreading on his faceplate. “Now come, but honestly, we should update your dictionary on medical equipment one day.”

Arcee was about to follow Knock Out when, from the corner of her optic, she noticed the file names on the computer. _AIR_002_. That had been the title of the video yet all she had seen was a video about Silas. It had been Airachnid’s name on the file, or so she had guessed, that had enticed her to breach the doctor’s privacy in the first place, but now that she had been caught, she had nothing to show for it. Did she even dare ask Knock Out about the file name? Would it even matter? Yes, the hate within her whispered, it _did_ matter. As she watched Knock Out saunter over to the door, she cursed herself inwardly.

“Knock Out. You had a video on here-” Arcee began but Knock Out cut her off.

“A private video?” he ventured.

“ _Yes._ It was a private video, but… it was labeled…” She paused. It might not even have referred to Airachnid but... “ ‘Airachnid’.”

He tilted his helm in thought, as he stared at the screen. “What do you know of her?” he asked.

“Are you really asking me that?” Bitterness seized her vocaliser and she felt herself begin to shake. Where to even begin? “I could start by saying she’s my rival, if you want to be eloquent about it.” She watched as Knock Out nodded slowly.

“Like Bulkhead and Breakdown,” he said.

“Well I don’t know what happened in their lives to make them such enemies, but Airachnid… no, you don’t get it. She’s worse. She’s done so much to turn my life upside down and hurt some really important bots to me, even before the war. I’m not going to give you my life history, but you know Jack Darby? She tried to kill him.” She grappled for the best way to describe her emotions to someone she considered a stranger. How did you describe hatred? “She killed Tailgate.”

“Tailgate?” Knock Out asked.

“An old partner,” she admitted.

Knock Out pursed his mouthplate and raised his brows. “I see.” He paused to reflect. “Do you know what happened to her?”

“No!” Arcee’s temper flared as emotions began to surface. “We had her captured, but when the base blew, you ‘cons took her back. I thought she’d still be imprisoned on this ship, but we’ve searched every inch of it and she’s not here.”

“No, she isn’t,” Knock Out replied.

“Where is she?” she pressed.

“Gone,” he replied bluntly. “But if you’re keen on knowing, I’m looking for the lady myself.”

Arcee felt something stir inside her. “Why?” she asked, half curious, half suspicious.

Knock Out moved brusquely to the computer and started scrubbing through the video. Even though she had seen many injuries during the war, watching Knock Out, the very mech standing next to her, torture Silas- no matter how much he deserved it- was a little difficult for her.

“Here,” Knock Out readied the video, then turned to face Arcee. An amused smile traced his mouthplate. “You really loathe her, don’t you?”

She couldn’t bring herself to respond.

“So do I.” It was a near whisper, and foretold what she was about to watch on the screen.

“Airachnid.” Silas’s voice.

Instantly intrigued, Arcee leaned into the glow of the computer.

Standing back, with a terrifying tool in hand dripping with energon, Knock Out vented heavily. It was clear he had been lost in his rage. Arcee bit her lower mouthplate.

“It wasn’t M.E.C.H., it was Airachnid.”

“What are you saying?” Knock Out said through gasping vents of air.

Glaring at Knock Out, Silas’ only response was spitting out a wad of energon onto the floor by Knock Out’s pedes.

“I said _tell me!_ ” Knock Out roared.

And before the Knock Out in the video could lunge at Silas for another round of pain infliction, the Knock Out standing next to Arcee fast forwarded the video.

“I forgot about this part," he said. "You look to be faint for this sort of thing.”

Although she disagreed, Arcee didn’t feel like sitting through torture to prove Knock Out wrong.

“Ah, here we are…” he muttered.

Returning to the video, the Knock Out in the video had stepped back again.

“Repeat that,” he said.

“It was Airachnid,” Silas panted, “Not M.E.C.H.”

“You said that,” Knock Out hissed. “Now what about her!”

Silas snarled, but admitted the truth. “Your spider transformer killed the original owner of this body. M.E.C.H. was hunting her down when they discovered this empty shell.”

As if he had just been struck, Knock Out reeled backwards until he slammed into the computer. Leaning against it, his expression was beyond that of comprehension. His legs were trembling and the only thing holding him upright at this point was a single servo clenching the table, claws digging in. His other servo covered his mouthplate, tapping his digit against his faceplate. Clearly not noticing or caring that he was splashing his own faceplate with Silas' energon that drenched his servos. He looked absent in his own mind, his optics darting wildly. Would this new information be a salvation for Silas?

Witnessing the effect this information had on his captor, Silas began to elaborate. “They found him in a small quarry, by the woods. One of his arms was severed from his body, one of his legs ripped off and his chest torn open. His _head_ had a perfect view of the whole picture, I was told. ARGGHHHHH!!”

As soon as Silas had brought up that last illustration, Knock Out bounded forwards and attacked in a frenzy. Energon seeped from the new wound where he had thrust his tool into Silas. Knock Out flicked a switch on the tool and electricity shot through it and inside Silas’ frame. Silas roared with pain as Knock Out wrenched the device up towards his chassis.

“Don’t think that will save you.” Knock Out vented, his optics wide and wild. “As long as you live inside him, _I will punish you._ ”

“My favourite part,” Knock Out murmured softly to himself, collapsing the video. Arcee turned to Knock Out. He was staring at the list of file names that replaced the video.

No wonder he had only opened up to her when she had mentioned Tailgate. Once again, Airachnid had taken somebody of value from someone else. Arcee struggled to think of some kind words to offer, but recalled when her friends had tried to do the same for her following the deaths of both Tailgate, Cliffjumper and others. It was always the usual, ‘I’m so sorry’ or ‘be strong’ or anything along those lines. Either way, they were empty to her and saying nothing would have almost been preferred.

“So what are you going to do?” she asked.

Shaken from his revere, Knock Out appeared almost startled, as if he had forgotten she was still next to him. “What did you try to do?” he posed the question back at her.

“Get revenge.” Realising what she’d just said aloud, she quickly followed it up with, “But you can’t be serious.”

Whatever she had said must have been a secret password for Knock Out's optics lit with an intense energy that spread into the corners of his now upturned mouthplate. Knock Out reached for a datapad and quickly began fiddling with it. She couldn’t see what was on the screen.

Arcee was bizarrely curious yet wary of his behaviour. “I thought you said you didn’t know where she was.”

“I never said that. I know where she is and she’s a lot closer than you might think.” Arcee marveled at how Knock Out was positively sparking with excitement. “Here...” He revealed to her the image on the datapad. It was an image of Cybertron from space.

“She’s on _Cybertron?_ ” she exclaimed, taken aback.

“Not exactly…” He touched the screen and one of the planet’s moons began flashing.

“She’s on Luna 2?" Arcee was astounded and asked, "How did she get there?”

“Haven’t the faintest," he replied.

Suddenly, all this information began to overwhelm her. Was that flashing dot really Airachnid? Could she possibly be this close? No, that couldn't be. Feeling herself begin to tremble, she shook her helm defiantly. How was it that throughout Arcee's life, Airachnid was never that far behind? “How did you manage to trace her? How can you do that?” This was all coming together too quickly for her.

When he spoke, he seemed to choose his words carefully. “I’ve had some free time now that I don’t answer to Shockwave. I took samples from her when…” he tripped over his own words and looked awkward. “When I separated her from Breakdown,” he finished.

Reflecting, Arcee let out a laugh that even surprised herself. She recalled how she and been stuck to Bulkhead during the battle for one particular iacon relic against Breakdown and Airachnid. While she and Bulkhead had been able to use the device to reverse themselves, they had left Breakdown and Airachnid stuck together without any way to detach themselves. “Oh because of the polarity gauntlet? How did you manage that without the device?”

“I’m skilled with many kinds of appliances,” he said smoothly.

“So you sawed her off?” Arcee stifled another laugh.

Her amusement must’ve been infectious, for a genuine smile started to spread on Knock Out’s faceplate. “I believe it was the only time I have ever seen her in fear.”

“Wish I could’ve seen that,” she said amused. But then Arcee’s optics widened as the information soaked in. “And you didn’t think to tell us this information?! Knock Out, this is a threat to our survival, right here! She could launch an attack-”

“Calm down, Autobot.” Knock Out said, cutting her off. “I've been keeping a good watch on her signal, believe me. She hasn't moved her location since I discovered her whereabouts not too long ago. I don't know how she ended up on Luna 2, but after going through some of the _Nemesis'_ reports, no emergency vessels were used around the time she must have disappeared. I don't think she has any means of transport. Otherwise, why stay on the moon? Either way, we could easily take a spacebridge and-"

She recoiled. “Wait, what? ‘We’? When did this become a ‘we’ thing? Where are you even going with this?”

“I thought you said you wanted revenge,” Knock Out said.

Balking, Arcee looked at him incredulously. Yes, she still felt the hate bubbling inside her and flaring up like an active volcano whenever Airachnid’s name had been mentioned during their conversation, but for some reason, being around the ‘ex-con’, she felt as if she were on a pedestal. As if _someone_ had to speak for the Autobot cause. 

“ _Did_ want revenge, Knock Out!” she lied, repeating what she told everyone who asked. “Are you suggesting we hunt her down?” Curiosity rose. “Is that your plan?”

“My dear, why do you think I tried to figure out where she is?” Knock Out’s temper was starting to show. “Now I discover _you_ lost someone to the murderer too. I’m thinking it’ll be a lot quicker with _your_ help. Together! We can hunt the glitch down and get our revenge for poor, sweet Tailbate and-”

“Tailgate,” she corrected.

“Him too!" Knock Out said. "It’s a shame our losses will go unresolved.”

Arcee shook her helm. “Why are you trying to convince me Knock Out? We barely know each other.”

“I need your help,” he said seriously.

Arcee crossed her arms. “You want me to get you spacebridge access?”

“More than that,” he urged. “You see, you Autobots left me a little… barren… when you set me up for probation.” He moved his servos as if to transform them into a weapon, but they clicked and nothing happened. “My saw and drill- I’ll need those back and only-”

Arcee was catching on. “-Only Ratchet can enable them,” she said.

“See? We’re finishing each other’s sentences already,” he teased. “We’re meant to be a team.”

“Optimus…" she said, looking away. "He wouldn’t have wanted this.”

Optimus Prime had told her so many times to let go of her pain, to let go of her thirst for revenge. She felt so ashamed now, looking back and remembering how she would blatantly ignore him to his faceplate. Optimus had been so patient with her and every time, she had disregarded his teachings. Now that Optimus was gone, surely now more than ever, she should listen to his advice. It was for her own health, he had told her more than once.

Yet… her optics fixated upon the screen. There, her name… _Airachnid_. Somehow, she _still_ lived when so many bots close to Arcee were dead. It wasn’t _fair_. It wasn’t just Airachnid either, it was Shockwave and Megatron, even Starscream. They were all still out there and the Autobots weren’t doing anything about it. The war was ‘over’ sure, but it was only over for as long as it took for one of these evils to return. She looked at the datapad Knock Out held. Airachnid was so close too. Surely… it would be the right thing to do. It wasn’t just revenge, it was making their home safe- and safe for all the new sparklings about to inhabit it. Arcee couldn’t stand back and watch her home be destroyed when she could do something about it. At least, that was how her hate reasoned it.

But with Knock Out? She studied him. He was such an _enigma_ to her. Standing so close to her, his optics were glued to the screen. It was only a list of file names, but she knew which one he was fixated on. She already knew, from the video, how hungry he was to get his own revenge. If they didn’t go together, wouldn’t he try to find a way to do it on his own? She froze. Wouldn’t she?

“So, enabling a recently reformed Decepticon’s weapons and giving him spacebridge access…" Arcee thought it over out loud. "This is starting to sound like it might get me into a heap of trouble. What’s in it for me?”

“Why, a free round trip to one of Cybertron’s stunning moons,” Knock Out responded with vigor, “And bonus! We return with the elusive souvenir of Airachnid’s bleeding head detached from her sparkless frame.” He nearly purred the last sentence.

Arcee had to admit, when he put it like that… She vented a sigh. “And how do I know you won’t turn on me? You know I have to ask that.”

He tapped the insignia on his chassis. “I’m an Autobot now! All of you seem to have this belief in ‘probation’, but if you remember, I _willingly_ chose to join you. You would have lost if I hadn’t taken out Starscream. I didn’t have to do that.”

“And I’m guessing you turned on him for more of a reason than just ‘he’s rude’,” she said.

“Perhaps," Knock Out replied. "But it benefited your side for the win.”

Arcee rolled her optics. “Knock Out," she exclaimed, "Flipping sides isn’t just easily said like that, don’t you get it? Do you not have any sense of loyalty to us?”

“I would, if I wasn’t on probation!” he retorted.

“You’re lucky we don’t charge you with war crimes and put you in the brig!” Arcee was incredulous; how did this bot not understand what it meant to be an Autobot? Did he even know what it meant to be a Decepticon? How could he be so flippant about choosing a side? “When you talk like this, how can I put my trust in you? How do I know you won’t leave me somewhere high and dry?”

“I won’t,” he said.

“Wow,” she urged, “nothing more promising than that?”

He shrugged solemnly. “Nothing I say will satisfy you when you already have this predetermined view of me.” He paused, then smiled brashly. “Perhaps I can persuade you along the way.”

Arcee wasn’t quite sure what he was insinuating with that remark. Still, the question remained- should she put her trust in an Decepticon? He had tried to kill her once, there was _that_ to consider.

“Arcee, it’s either go with me and we hunt down Airachnid, get our ‘happy ending’ and our…” he raised a brow, “ _Partners_ are laid to rest by some means more practical than a silly game of throwing lights into the sky or… or not at all and we both live our lives in limbo. That’s your choice. I am putting my trust in you, as well.”

He held her gaze. Those intense red lights shone back at her, luring her in and entrancing her determination.

Primus, help her.

 

_**(The Flashback. . . During the War)**_

“Tailgate?”

Arcee placed a servo on the door frame and peered around the corner. Her optics adjusted to the dimly lit room. The only light emanated from the green luminescent accents on the walls. Optics adjusted, she could make out the silhouette of her partner. He stood by two-way mirror where, on the other side, an operation was in progress. The light from beyond the mirror shone through, casting a glow on Tailgate’s hunched form. He was the only bot left in the previously crowded room.

“Tailgate.” Arcee strode into the waiting room and approached the mirror. “You’ve been in here for joors. Go power down, get some rest.”

Looking through the two-way mirror, she began to wonder how long the operation would take. Or if it would be successful at all. Everyone at the base had been slammed into a world of shock when the rescue team had burst into the base with Bumblebee on a stretcher. Everyone had surely thought Megatron had killed the young scout. Bumblebee’s body had been mangled and broken, sparks shooting out of his body as the team rushed him right past Arcee and Tailgate who had been standing in the hall. They had been having one of those rare leisurely conversation when everything turned into a flurry. Somehow, through the urgent chaos of hastening Bumblebee to the medbay, the pair had seen the destroyed state of the little bot. Arcee had even seen Bumblebee’s blue eyes flickering, his life slowly slipping away. Now, Ratchet worked relentlessly over Bumblebee’s frame. 

“I want to leave.”

Shaken from her thoughts, Arcee looked at her partner who had spoken. Their optics were nearly level with one another.

“Bumblebee’s dead.”

“He’s not dead.” She pointed to a monitor inside the waiting room. “He’s going to pull through. Those are the latest diagnostics from Ratchet’s progress. Bumblebee is stable. Ratchet’s just… working on his voice box right now.”

Tailgate lifted his servo to his own vocaliser. “Megatron tortured him. Have you ever been tortured?”

She shook her helm. “No.”

“What if that happens to us one day? What if we end up like him? If Bumblebee spilled any secrets, the Decepticons would have wiped out all of our bases by now- what if I’m not that strong?”

“Tailgate, we’re in a war. We can’t live that far into the future,” she explained. “We have to take it one day at a time, you know that.”

But Tailgate’s expression was bitter. “Or we could not choose at all, right?”

She inclined her head, indicating suspicion. “What are you talking about?”

“You and ‘Bee are… my best friends,” Tailgate explained. He rested a servo on the glass. Arcee could see the pain reflected in his optics as he continued to watch Ratchet operate. Had he been here the whole time? Watching the operation from the very beginning? There was dried energon all around the operating room floor. “And today, Bumblebee was almost killed. Just a few orns ago, we were all outside the base playing a game of lobbing. ”

“It’s not always a game.” She said this as softly as she could. “It’s war. Bots we know will die.”

“How can you sound so _okay_ with that?!”

“I’m not! I’m not,” Arcee was caught speechless. She grappled for something to say. “I just don’t understand how to help you. I don’t want to lose Bumblebee and I don’t want to lose you either. But I’ve lost so many other bots I knew, especially right when the war first started and my world flipped upside down.” She paused, the memories rushing at her. “I was at an estate party when the ‘cons flew in and put holes in everyone I had known my whole life. Did I tell you? I would have died if Ultra Magnus hadn’t hauled me out of there.” Desperation swelled in her voice, “You have to understand, Tailgate. I came to the conclusion a long time ago that, it’s a fact, I’m going to lose my friends in this war. I have to prepare myself for a day like… like _this_ ,” she waved a servo at the scene unfolding on the operating table. “To be an average day.”

Tailgate looked as if he was going to crumple onto the floor. Arcee studied him intensely, noticing how his frame shook as he vented. “W-well…” He looked from her, to the still Bumblebee. “If this is just an average day with the Autobots, then I don’t want to be a part of it.” He held her optics fiercely. “Not anymore.”

Slapping her across the faceplate would have sufficed. 

“Tailgate. You can’t mean that. You… you would leave? Leave all of us?” Frustration seized her. She jabbed a digit at Bumblebee. “Leave him? Leave _me?_ We’re _partners._ ”

“Nothing’s holding you here either.”

Arcee shook her helm fiercely. “This isn’t just something you leave. It’s our lives now. You can’t just walk out of a war. You think I just signed up for this one day because I felt my life was too boring? My life was boring, but this wasn’t the kind of excitement I had wished upon a star for. When you accidentally stumble onto something like… like _this_ , then you’re in it. You’re stuck in it and you have to be strong.”

“I’m not strong, I’m just a normal mech!”

“The war didn’t ask you if you were, Tailgate,” she replied. “The war found us. Not just us- ‘Bee, Ratchet, all the bots on this base. This isn’t just about you and me staying alive, Tailgate. It’s everyone. We can’t just leave them.”

Tailgate vented a sigh. “Arcee… you know I respect you. But it’s Decepticons! Look at what they’re capable of! Look at ‘Bee, he was _tortured_. It’s not just his frame that’s been abused, we don’t know what kind of mental state he’ll even be in when he wakes up.” He took a step back and shut his optics. “Okay, so this is an average day at war and I’m in it. But what good am I? There’s nothing I can do to help.”

Arcee rested a servo on his shoulder plating. “I’m not asking for your help. I’m asking you to endure this with me.”

“How?” Tailgate sounded anguished. “I’m not warrior material.”

“I’m grieving too. But I won’t let it make my decisions for me. What would Bumblebee say if he saw you like this?” She attempted a smile, hoping Tailgate would mirror it. “What would he say if he woke up and you were gone?”

“You mean if he can say anything ever again.”

“Then stick around and find out,” Arcee encouraged. “He’s going to need a couple of friends when he wakes up, whatever the state he’s in.” When Tailgate didn’t respond, Arcee realised that she was still losing him. Just like how they almost lost Bumblebee. “Please. Don’t go. We work well together. I’ve lost so many friends already, all dead to the war. Do you know how much it would hurt to lose another? Having you walk away would be worse than if you died. Stay.”

Tailgate gently stepped away from Arcee’s comforting servo. He wouldn’t look at her. He could only look what was happening on the other side of the window. “There are other partners in the world.”

“But you’re my first.”Arcee refused to look away, ready to meet his gaze when he looked at her again. He did. There wasn’t any way he could be oblivious to the pain she was experiencing. No, Arcee might not be showing it the same way Tailgate was, but, candidly, it was there. 

“I’m think I’m going to go power down for a bit.” His voice was barely audible.

Despite his small stature, each step he took was weighed down by emotion. Each step seemed to reverberate through the metal floor and Arcee could feel it beneath her own pedes. She wrapped her arms around herself and wondered what her partner would decide. 

“I’m not ready to say good-bye,” she called after him.

Tailgate paused by the door. After a moment, he turned around. They looked at each other from across the room. His optics shifted from her, to Bumblebee on the operating table behind her, then to Bumblebee’s diagnostics on the screen. He shook his helm. 

“You don’t have to,” he said finally. “Besides…” Arcee felt relief wash over her when a smile spread on his faceplate. “If I did, I know you. You’d come hunt me down.”

She returned the smile. “Don’t make me.”


	3. Ratchet |&| Anaesthesia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcee contemplates Knock Out's offer to go after Airachnid. Will it bring her what she craves most? Maybe a chat with Ultra Magnus and a trip to Ratchet's at Hangar E will spur some fresh outlooks for the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> Thank-you so much for your continued interest in my story. :D A huge thanks to greyseeker, CosmicRust and buttadventure for leaving comments! I also love all the wonderful kudos left by other readers- including you guests! \\(n_n)/
> 
> I must apologise for the missing italics in my previous chapters- they are now added where needed. I am new to Ao3 and didn't even consider that they wouldn't transfer over when I copy/pasted. Oops! 
> 
> Enjoy Chapter 3! (I aim to update Friday evenings- feel free to follow my tumblr for updates as well: tfnovaspark.)

Arcee scanned the storage garage. Bending down, she pulled out two sparkling incubator kits from the shelf and flipped them open to ensure all the contents were accounted for. Last time, when she had left it up to Wheeljack to bring the supplies, he had accidentally brought some empty kits. Unfortunately, that mistake meant they couldn’t bring all the sparklings back with them. This time, they’d locate them around the outskirts of Iacon and turn them in to Ratchet.

She had declined Knock Out’s invitation.

Venting a sigh, Arcee tapped one of the glass containers while she reflected. Try as she might, the flurry of thoughts surrounding the invitation had not left her since she had left his suite. That Decepticon had almost tempted her to say yes. Because whenever she thought of Airachnid, that rage boiled inside her, and yet again, it almost blinded her. The urge to just drag Knock Out to the moon above Cybertron and hunt Airachnid down had been monumental. But in the end, Arcee ran from the invitation. Arcee _never_ ran.

Even so, Knock Out’s intense optics that had burned such a bright red and lured her in began to horrify her. Within them, Arcee began to see a vision flicker in those optics, and she realised it was her own reflection. Knock Out was a Decepticon, and although he had switched sides, he hadn’t switched morals all that quickly. It had dawned on her, that agreeing to come with him, to hunt down Airachnid, Arcee would have been just like him. She was _nothing_ like a Decepticon.

Yet, even thinking of the plan now, Arcee felt a yearning to join. There was an exuberant thrill rising in her when she imagined hunting down Airachnid just as the spider-bot would hunt down all of her victims. This time, Arcee would end her once and for all. She could see it in Knock Out’s own faceplate, his expression a mirror of her own true self. It was terrifying. Even ‘after the war’, she still felt this way. Wasn’t an Autobot supposed to be better than that? Wasn’t that what made them, well, Autobots?

“Arcee?”

Had she suddenly lost her ability for stealth!? She asked herself incredulously. Caught by surprise, Arcee jolted, slamming her helm on the shelf in the storage garage. She hissed in pain as she felt the reverberations travel through her frame. Pulling her helm out of the shelf, she rubbed the spot that ached and squinted to see who had hailed her.

“Ultra Magnus?”

The massively sized bot flicked on the light. “Do you need a light?” he ventured curiously. “What are you looking for?” There was no accusation in his voice.

“Uh... I think I have everything I need now.” Arcee looked down at her capture kits and a box filled with tools. “Do you know where the phase shifter might be?”

“Smokescreen has it.” Ultra Magnus pointed to a screen next to the garage door. “I made up a rental list here, so we know who has what at all times. When you take out one of the relics, you sign your name on this chart along with the date and time. You do the same, once it’s returned.”

Arcee smiled. “Of course you did.”

“Is there a reason you needed it?”

“Just thought I’d bring it when Wheeljack and I go for another sparkling hunt. It might come in handy. But you know what, it’s okay. I’ll go see Smokescreen for it.”

Magnus stepped aside as Arcee exited with her supplies. “It’s… good to see you again though.” He stammered.

Stopping in her tracks, she turned and stared up, up… up at the massive bot in front of her. His optics searched hers, almost imploringly, for some sign of familiarity. Since Arcee had first seen Ultra Magnus when he turned up during the final days of the war, they had never had the opportunity to talk and really acknowledge one another. Now that there was some time to pause and talk about things other than ‘Megatron is doing something crazy, let’s go stop him’, Arcee realised this is what Ultra Magnus was attempting. He wanted to chat.

“What’s up, Magnus?”

His optics shifted. He looked awkward. “I wanted to say… I mean, it’s been a long time but we used to talk. I haven’t forgotten.”

Arcee smiled, amused by his ineptitude. She appreciated the gesture. “I guess I don’t know how I’m feeling.” She brushed away her earlier thoughts of her fright with her own fascination with revenge. “We just had a whole memorial for everyone we lost and… I don’t know, how did you feel after the memorial?”

Asking how Magnus was feeling and getting an answer back was impossible for most bots. But Arcee knew through their past history with one another, she was one of the few bots who could get him to open up. Even after all these millions of years, she had always kept his secrets.

“It was the right thing to do,” he responded fairly. Then a look crossed his faceplate as it dawned on him that he wasn’t answering the real question. “I feel satisfied. I don’t know what more we could have done.”

Arcee considered that answer. “Nothing, I guess. They’re gone. Nothing we can do but rebuild.”

“The memorial isn’t supposed to bring them back.”

She shook her helm. “I don’t expect it to.” She hammered a fist over her spark cavity on her chassis. “But wasn’t the whole purpose of it… to feel good in here?” Ultra Magnus’ optics rested on where Arcee had pointed at herself and contemplated the question. She continued, “Why else hold a memorial? It’s for us, not for them.”

“That… is true,” he responded carefully.

“Then tell me, how is one act of hanging lights in the air that only lasts a few joors supposed to make me all better? Has it ever helped anyone? Do _you_ feel helped?”

She knew before she had finished her last question that these were far too many emotional questions for Ultra Magnus to handle. He looked to the side as he grappled for some kind of a suitable explanation.

“I’m just grateful to still be here, Arcee,” he said finally. “And further grateful to still be with bots I knew from before the war.”

“I agree, but I still don’t feel better. It’s not that I expect to be the same bot who I was before the war, it’s not that. I…” she grappled for the right words. “I’m not at peace. At least, not in here,” and again, she tapped her chassis.

“You don’t mean a sparkbond, do you?” Arcee looked taken aback by the outright bluntness, especially coming from Ultra Magnus. “You appeared most solemn when you mentioned Cliffjumper.”

Arcee grimaced through a smile. “Cliff… he was special to me. But I’m not talking about sparkbonds. I’m talking about myself, I think.”

“But he’s the one you miss the most.” It wasn’t a question.

“You could say that." She looked away.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” It was almost too military sounding to come across sincere, but Arcee knew Ultra Magnus well and understood he was conveying sincere condolences.

“It still bothers me,” she continued. “Tailgate still bothers me too.”

“Tailgate?”

“I met him after I was stationed,” she explained. “He wasn’t in our circle before the war. I think about the both of them, and I feel no different after the memorial. Yes, I’m glad to be here, but so what if I feel nothing but restless?”

“Arcee, the war is over.”

“I know that,” she interrupted.

Ultra Magnus shuttered his optics. “I understand, but it’s clear you don’t recognise it inside despite what you tell yourself. It is true we can’t return to who we once were, but I don’t think that feeling restless is right either. You must ask yourself, what would make you feel at peace if not living in peace times?”

It was Arcee’s turn to shutter her optics. Ultra Magnus may not have been the most tuned to social behaviour, but that didn’t make him insensitive or unobservant. 

“The war is over,” he repeated. “We are now forced to let go. We don’t have any option about it if we want to create a life of peace for those returning to Cybertron.” Ultra Magnus paused, looking aggrieved. “I have been considering this a lot lately. That… ‘ex-Decepticon’… medic we have,” he spoke carefully, “I use him as an example. He will most likely not be the first of other Decepticons looking to join us. I look at him and I can imagine the rap sheet he has of criminal activity." The expression he gave at the thought of the 'ex-Decepticon' was like one given when sipping a bad batch of energon. "I can’t ignore it. But now that the war is over, do I value him for what he can contribute to us since he has spoken his allegiance to us in peace times? He has probably killed, or contributed to others who have killed.”

Although Ultra Magnus spoke of Knock Out, Arcee’s mind began to wander all while considering everything Ultra Magnus was saying. He had used Knock Out as an example, suggesting he had been responsible for the death of Autobots. That was something she hadn’t thought of when sitting next to him in his suite. But what about her? They had all killed too, except, they killed ‘the bad guys’.

Arcee spoke her thoughts aloud: “What makes us different from them, then?” 

Ultra Magnus looked affronted. “I-I beg your pardon?”

“Now that the war’s over, I mean,” she said. “We’re going to run into ‘cons that don’t want to join us, then what?”

“If they refuse to acknowledge peace, then we enforce the law.” This he said with absolution. “We must still mind the peace and apprehend criminals. It is up to us to procure a safe environment for our future. We will most definitely run into Decepticons who will continue to oppose us.”

And that was Airachnid. Ultra Magnus, completely unbeknown to him, was beginning to solidify a resolution in Arcee’s mind.

“You’re right, Magnus,” Arcee murmured. The massive bot looked down at her curiously. “We do go back to how it was before the war-”

“I don’t understand-”

Arcee nodded her helm insistently. “Yes, just like before. If there’s a criminal, you hunt them down-”

“I don’t know if I would say the word ‘hunt’,” Ultra Magnus rumbled, more to himself.

“-and you bring them in…” she trailed off. Bring Airachnid in? Knock Out’s intentions were to kill Airachnid on the spot and Arcee had no reservations about doing the same. It was everyone around her dictating their morals to her that told her this wasn’t the solution. But there was Knock Out ready to offer her what she desired most out of this whole million year war.

“Take them to trial,” Ultra Magnus offered. He appeared utterly lost with where Arcee was taking their conversation. “Yes, we will do all that.”

“But we don’t have a court, we don’t have any of this. It’s just us. What then?” Arcee implored, her processor racing for an answer that would satisfy those pesky morals.

“Right now we’re locking them all up until we’re able to form a system," Ultra Magnus said.

But that wasn’t good enough for Arcee. Airachnid would just escape, like all the times before. She would still live. And then what- she would sit in prison only to go to trial to probably live the rest of her life in prison. Airachnid would never understand, never suffer, for what she had done.

Unless… and Arcee’s mind went somewhere she never thought it would go. Knock Out wanted her dead just as much as Arcee, he had no Optimus Prime guilt as she did. What if Arcee wasn’t able to stop Knock Out in time? What if he killed Airachnid before Arcee could ‘bring her in’? But would she be satisfied not being the one to take Airachnid’s life?

It may be peace times now, but Ultra Magnus was right. There were _still_ threats out there and those threats needed to be dealt with. Airachnid _had_ to be hunted down and Arcee knew just the bot who would be comfortable and welcome her own true intentions. But she wasn’t like him, she told herself. No, she wasn’t like a former Decepticon. Yes, she would hunt down Airachnid, but she envisioned herself more like…

Arcee looked up at Ultra Magnus. She barely registered the concern for her on his faceplate. He opened his mouthplate to say something, but Arcee cut him off.

“You’ll have to tell Wheeljack I won’t be able to go sparkling hunting with him.”

“Why not?” he asked, completely bewildered.

“Because, I might,” Arcee thought quickly, “I might be at Ratchet’s for awhile.”

She heard something along the lines of ‘are you alright?’ or something to that effect coming from Ultra Magnus before she ran past him and pounded down the corridor.

Arcee needed to speak with Knock Out.

 

Knock Out was waiting in the hall, standing as much as he could within the shadows. His optics were focused intently on the corridor as he began to feel anxious. The longer he stood exposed, the more likely one of the Autobots might wander into him. Knock Out didn’t want to have to explain himself about why he was hanging around the door to one of his ‘restricted areas’.

‘Restricted areas’. He clicked his glossa with disdain. It seemed whether he was still with the Decepticons and working under Shockwave or in his current situation working with the new powers in command, he was never free to go where he pleased. He had assumed joining the Autobots, what with their whole ‘freedom for all’ act, that he’d get to share in some of that freedom as well. Sure, leading him now was an inexperienced young bot instead of a monstrous-sized war hungry brute, but it was pretty much the same rules as before.

How long would it take to gain their trust? Knock Out was becoming impatient; playing their game, their rules, etcetera. It just hit him a few orns ago that he hadn’t gone for a drive since the war had ended- since before Shockwave had arrived even. War had been no fun as expected, but apparently, neither was this alleged ‘peace times’.

Knock Out’s optics shifted to the silhouette approaching him. His initial reaction was to flinch and hide further- which was impossible- but he relaxed when he recognised the petite size. He considered Arcee as she neared, maybe he could gain a sympathiser?

Arcee raised a brow. “Don’t screw this up.”

“ _Moi?_ ” Knock Out asked, a servo to his chassis. “I gave you my word.” He brushed the Autobot symbol. “Doesn’t this little icon mean anything to you Autobots?”

“It does. But I’m not sure how strongly I believe that the old insignia hasn’t been completely scrubbed off.” Arcee raised her servo to the identity pad, allowing her clearance onto the bridge. Knock Out followed her closely.

“I see you haven’t done much to liven up the place,” he commented dryly.

The bridge had never bothered him in the past, but now he suddenly saw all the ghosts of those that had worked here. He could almost envision the vehicons on the lower levels working at the computer stations. Knock Out had known some of their names, chatting with them while using the computers. Then over there… that’s where Knock Out had often stood to the side with… And then there- that's where Megatron would gripe about Optimus Prime. Now, where Arcee was heading, that’s where Soundwave had always stood. Sometimes Knock Out wondered just how much the silent figure saw on the ship. Looking up and around the whole bridge once again, it was eerie how deserted it was now.

Approaching the main computer, Arcee began to activate the space bridge. “I adjusted the tracer on you,” she explained. She hit a few keys on the pad. “I don’t want the others to figure out what we’re up to, so I’ve scrambled our signals. _However_ , I am keeping track of _your_ signal and Ratchet will keep track of mine.”

“I thought this excursion was just between us,” Knock Out said, his voice dripping with a false sweetness.

“I’m not going to tell Ratchet the nature of our exploration. But I will let him know he can track me at any time. Most likely, he won’t, unless he knows we’re in danger if I patch him.” Arcee paused to reflect. “Ratchet’s… had a lot on his mind lately.”

“We all have,” Knock Out muttered to himself. Then to Arcee he pressed, “Does anyone know we’re leaving?” He noticed the delay in Arcee’s response. “Okay, who knows?”

“I told Magnus I’d be away for a bit. That’s all.”

“Ah so they’ll all think I stole you away, nice plan,” Knock Out replied sarcastically.

“No,” Arcee countered, “I told him I was going to see Ratchet for awhile. If Ultra Magnus goes looking for me, he’ll go straight to Ratchet.”

“Clever. I put up a ‘do not disturb’ sign on my suite,” Knock Out said. “Although I doubt anybot will notice my absence. Unless, of course, someone dents a pede again.” He added the last sentence with a mocking smile.

Arcee rolled her optics. “Just let me do all the talking with Ratchet. He’s been touchy-”

“- ‘since the end of the war’,” Knock Out finished, rolling his optics. “Yes, I know. You’d think he was the only one who was affected by a million of year war.” He received a fierce glance for that comment.

Although he took no gravity to her annoyance with him, Knock Out decided to lay back on the teasing for the time being- at least, until they were on the moon close on Airachnid’s trail. Knock Out had to remind himself, as much as he hated to admit it, he required the help of this Autobot. If Knock Out angered her enough into backing out or wanting to go on her own, then he would be back in his suite figuring out another way of coping. The idea of that alone horrified him. Knock Out _needed_ this kill. This was the only cure he had left and his own spark relied on it.

He flexed his sharp digits. Oh, how he couldn’t wait to have his saws back. There wasn’t any way he would let Arcee disable them again after their adventure. Knock Out watched as the space bridge began to power up, but all he could see was the colour of Airachnid’s energon as his blades sliced cleanly through her metal frame. Yes, Knock Out had fantasised multiple times about this day since all this torment had began. If Knock Out could make Airachnid suffer, then that would be _perfect_. Feeling a light tap on his arm, he looked down as Arcee waved for him to take the first step through the spacebridge.

“Go,” she commanded. “I set it to a timer, it’ll close shortly.”

Needing no more of an invitation, Knock Out stepped forwards through the humming, green energy of the bridge and with a blast of gentle white light, he could see the other side.

“Knock Out? What are you doing here..?”

Knock Out had no idea where he was. It was some sort of base, as small as it was. It was very barren of basic supplies. With a few ramps of scaffolding, a single med berth, a computer and two lab tables with crates as seats. Ratchet stood not far away at one of these tables, his back to Knock Out. Surprised, Knock Out took a tentative step forwards and realised Ratchet hadn’t even noticed the space bridge being activated. Not even a grunt of a hello at best.

“Knock Out?” the same voice repeated. If that hadn’t been Ratchet who had spoken to him, then who? Knock Out looked around again for the source of the voice but he saw no other bot in the room. Then the voice spoke again, this time with a thrill to his voice. “Arcee!”

Behind Knock Out, Arcee emerged from the space bridge. He had never seen her smile so widely. “Jack!” she called. Doing what was almost a near jog of happiness, Arcee went straight for the scaffolding. Only then did Knock Out see who she had been speaking to- it had been a human. Knock Out grimaced.

He thought he recognised the human, but it was so difficult to tell. They all looked alike to him if he didn’t purposely try to identify them. The small human leaned against the scaffolding, grinning up at Arcee. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon!”

“It’s good to see you’re still sticking around the hangar even though the rest of us have work to do on Cybertron.” She then paused and glanced over her shoulder.

Knock Out studied the pair and followed their line of sight. They were both staring intently on Ratchet. Even with Arcee in the room, Ratchet had made no move to turn around or greet them. The old medic seemed completely withdrawn. Knock Out didn’t know Ratchet very well. Sure, they had fought in battle of course, and had some course of interaction during the final days of the war, but not enough to _know_ him. But judging by Arcee and the human Jack’s softened expressions, Ratchet’s behaviour was far from his norm.

“I think you guys are keeping him sane,” Arcee whispered quietly.

Jack nodded mournfully. “We can’t be here all the time. I worry when we’re not.”

Watching Ratchet further, then back at Arcee and Jack just staring at Ratchet as if he was already a ghost, Knock Out began to feel a rise of restlessness inside him. Was Arcee so emotional that she had forgotten the plan- _their_ plan? Didn’t she need this as much as he did? Knock Out thirsted for Airachnid’s death _now_. Just the fear of returning to the vast, derelict berthroom with nothing but quick fixes provoked Knock Out into a state of urgency. Time to drive this conversation to a quicker pace.

“What are we whispering about?” Knock Out leaned in between Arcee and Jack. “The old mech over there? I think he’s due for a fresh coat of paint, myself.”

“What are you even doing here?” Jack asked with a groan. His eyes rested on the Autobot insignia. “You’re really an Autobot now?”

“Just ask my sponsor,” he waved a servo at Arcee.

When Jack gave her a puzzling look, Arcee vented a sigh. “It was Optimus,” she explained. “I guess he had some conversation with ‘Bee before he joined the Allspark.” The explanation didn’t appear to sit well with Jack.

“Well, is he here to help with the sparklings?” the human asked. “Ratchet hasn’t been able to make much progress with them lately.”

“I am here you know,” Knock Out said. “You _can_ ask me directly.”

“If you’re an Autobot now,” Jack tilted his head and pointed to his eyes, “are you going to change your eyes to blue?”

Knock Out scoffed. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I like the colour red.”

“Cybertronians can’t change their optic colour, Jack. Just like you can’t,” Arcee explained. “There’s more to it than red for cons and blue for Autobots.”

Before Arcee could go into the whole Cybertronian pre-war history and the caste system, a new voice called out. Whoever it was, Knock Out had to thank them for interrupting Arcee. He heard the voice call out, “Is that really you-”

Hearing the sounds of metal clanging as someone was climbing up from the scaffolding, a human femme appeared. She was about to continue talking to Jack when she looked from Arcee- a look of cheery surprise- to Knock Out- and a look of disgust crossed her face.

“You!” Knock Out said nothing. The human femme stormed over, shoving herself between the boy and Knock Out’s faceplate. “Aren’t you one of the bad guys?!” Now that the femme approached and Knock Out had a good look at her, he realised he recognised her.

“Well isn’t it my most favourite passenger!” Knock Out flashed a grin and settled into a comfortable lean on the scaffolding. “I hope you haven’t been in any strange trunks lately. It would hurt my feelings, you know.”

June looked him up and down, her nose crinkled. It was as if she didn’t know how to respond to such a playful tone. “Arcee, please explain this.”

Arcee just threw her servos up in the air and walked over to Ratchet. “He’s an Autobot now!” she called over her shoulder. Jack raced down the scaffolding to catch up with her.

June turned to face Knock Out, arms crossed. “You don’t strike me as ‘reformed’.”

“Have you interfaced with the male yet?” he countered back.

June’s face flushed. “Agent Fowler!? I was _never_ in a relationship with him!”

Knock Out placed a digit to his chin, grinning playfully. “That’s not what I felt going on in my trunk.”

“Like _you_ would know! Have _you_ even ‘interfaced’ lately?”

That earned a hearty laugh from Knock Out that even took himself by surprise. He leaned in closer, “I like you. You can be my human pet.” He extended an upturned servo before June. “Lift to the table?” He pointed to where Ratchet was working. There was another human over there too. Apparently this place was infested with them!

“No thanks," she sniffed airily. "I’ll walk.”

“We’ll get to a place of mutual authenticity soon.” Knock Out then picked up the sounds of hushed whispers.

Suspiciously, Knock Out narrowed his optics in the direction of Arcee. She was leaning against that shoddy table, conversing with Ratchet. Or trying to converse. Arcee seemed to be doing most of the talking. Was it because she was an Autobot or was Knock Out just too used to living in a Decepticon atmosphere, he wasn’t sure, but he concluded that he didn’t appreciate being left out of whispered conversations.

“But uhh…” Knock Out walked up to June again before she climbed down the scaffolding. “What’s up with the rustbucket?”

“What do you mean?” June asked suspiciously.

“The human boy said something-”

“Jack?” she asked. Knock Out pointed to the black-haired boy running after Arcee. June ellaborated, “That’s my son, Jack.”

“Oh? Your heir?” Knock Out pondered this. “Is he too young to be on his own yet? I can’t tell with your species. I thought he’d have left the nest by now.”

June slammed her hands to her hips, full of impatient sass. “Our family sticks together,” she retorted. “Even when he moves out, we’ll always stay in contact.”

There was a pause where they just stared at one another.

“But did you ask _him_ that?” Knock Out asked. The grin began to fade. “Maybe he won’t want to ‘stick together’.”

“The human concept of ‘family’ is stronger than you think,” she snapped back.

Knock Out made a noise of disdain. “ ‘Human’,” he rolled his optics, “Your species relies heavily on this mighty concept. Certainly it must bore you to learn of ours: taking sparklings from a well, providing them with coding and going separate ways unless they can elevate our own status. Downright cold, isn’t it?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” June responded bluntly. She looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “Jack and I have been through a lot and that’s what ties us close as family. Being human doesn’t make you fit for raising children, I’ll agree with that. I’ve watched the Autobots work together during my time here and I would call them family. It’s what you go through in life together and what makes you care and rely on one another that makes you family, not how you cultivate your young.”

Knock Out gazed at the small human femme. So tiny, so… squishable. But there was a strength there that imposed on even himself. Of course, she could do nothing to harm him, but it was that defensive instinct, that’s what Knock Out found himself attracted to in her.

“A recogniseable parental response through and through” he said. June had only started to process what he had said when Knock Out continued. “But tell me, your child said Ratchet hasn’t been well. Why has he been such a downer lately? Other than watching The Big O jump into the well, of course.”

June eyed Knock Out carefully. Knock Out never knew he could feel so self-conscious from being judged by something so small and ugly. But that wasn’t truly accurate, was it? She wasn’t judging him, he realised, but reading him. Whatever she read, she seemed satisfied and abruptly relaxed. June sighed, cupping her chin in her palm.

“I don’t know," she sighed. "Raf’s been able to make him laugh once. Just the one time though. He doesn’t talk a whole lot, it’s rough. But we’re not giving up on him. I just worry about him when we leave at the end of the day.”

“Cybertronians don’t exactly take ‘ending it all’ into consideration," he explained 

“No, I don’t mean that.” June looked to Knock Out, she searched his non-organic eyes as if trying to find something in them. “I know what it’s like to be alone with your thoughts, and sometimes, that’s enough to get you into a spiral. Thoughts are torture enough.”

Knock Out’s silence was enough to say he understood, and June’s expression showed that she knew it. Yes, he liked this human after all.

“So,” June broke the silence. “Why are you here, if not for Ratchet’s sake? Are you here to help with the sparklings?”

Knock Out looked down at her, a teasing smile on his faceplate, before heading to the table. “I wouldn’t call myself an reliable expert on ‘cultivating young’.” It was time to turn back to business. Who knew that Arcee was such a chatty bot?

“-I’m not having this discussion with you, Arcee,” Ratchet was saying. His back was turned to her, and he was hunched over something Knock Out could not see. The other human was holding something too large for his size and looked up at both bots in distress, his glasses sliding down his nose.

“Ratchet, you can’t shut me down like that,” Knock Out heard Arcee say. Knock Out lingered just behind her, hoping to eavesdrop some more. “And when you’re done with the sparklings, then what?”

Ratchet shook his helm fervently. “I’m not anywhere close to coming up with forged codes that are compatible! You can keep bringing me more, but we will never transform them until they have parent codes.”

“You’re not pressed for time,” the stress in Arcee’s vocaliser was increasing in stress. “You don’t need to be so hard on yourself.”

“It’s always sparklings!” Ratchet stormed, as if talking to somebot that wasn’t there. “Everyone keeps bringing me their sparklings! Why is this always on me!?”

Knock Out lightly brushed Arcee’s shoulder. Jolting from the touch, Arcee gave him a fierce look that clearly said: _not now_. However, ‘not now’ was a problem for Knock Out. He guided Arcee to the side, a few steps away from Ratchet and the humans.

“We need to hurry this along,” Knock Out hissed in a hushed tone. “We don’t have time for casual repertoire.”

“I understand that,” Arcee replied firmly. “But I am _worried_ about Ratchet right now. I haven’t spoken to him in awhile and clearly he’s not doing well.”

Frustration flashed on Knock Out faceplate but he struggled to keep it down to avoid an argument. There had to be some way to steer this in a way that would make Arcee respond to.

“And how well are _you_ doing?” he finally countered. “You will have all the time in the world to work on him. But you have to take care of yourself first, do you not agree?”

“I…” Arcee stumbled on her words and Knock Out felt himself on edge. “Just give me a moment with him okay? I need to make a crack before I can just ask him to unlock your weapons.”

Knock Out still yearned to argue with her but resigned that this was the most he was going to get out of her. Stepping back, Knock Out gave Arcee a curt nod and watched as she turned back to Ratchet.

Still, Knock Out felt apprehensive watching her rest a gentle servo on Ratchet’s arm and try to draw him into speaking with her again. He could feel his digits tingle as he pondered if Arcee would be able to pull this off. Knock Out already fretted that she had hinted to Ultra Magnus that she was going to be away for awhile. Now she had to lie again to Ratchet. Was an Autobot really up for a simple task of lying or would it eat away at her devout conscious Autobot’s always seemed to allude they had.

Knock Out hated having to rely on Arcee, he had so much riding on her. It was his own sanity on the line and Knock Out didn’t want to feel like he had to keep reminding her of their shared goal. Surely, she had to be just as driven as he was for this. Didn’t they share the same affliction? Feeling the panic rise inside him, Knock Out started to realise how clausterphobic it was inside the hangar. Was it just him or was the room shrinking?

Fidgeting where he stood, he looked around the hangar and instantly noticed the front garage door was part way open. Glancing over his shoulder at Arcee continuing her attempt of coercing Ratchet, Knock Out slipped out of the hangar.

Earth sky.

His optics widened to adjust for the brilliant sky outside. This is what he craved Knock Out had felt the same relief during the memorial as well. His desire to be outside and not contained by walls whether it be the hangar or the _Nemesis_ was instinctively primal. The sky was a crisp blue and a soft wind buffeted his faceplate. Hardly able to control himself, Knock Out transformed into his alt mode. Feeling all his parts settle, it dawned on him that he hadn’t transformed in ages.

Slowly, Knock Out rolled forward on the tarmac, longing to rev his engine, he resisted calling attention to himself. Engine churning gently, he picked up speed and headed towards the road. Already he could feel his urgency and anxiety begin to slip away into the wind. But the faster Knock Out drove, the more soothed he felt. In fact, Knock Out could almost hear the open, unknown road encouraging him. Sure, he was in a hurry but… just a quick drive to see where the road would lead him, then Knock Out would come back, really…

“Hey.”

Knock Out stopped. Shaken from his elixir to his distress, he strained to see who had interrupted him. He angled his side mirrors for a better view.

Another one of those pesky humans! Knock Out watched as the figure stomped its way towards him. This one was another femme, although smaller and scrawnier.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she accused.

“Do I know you?” he lied. Knock Out was sure he could still feel the blow to his faceplate from when this human had been wearing the apex armor and punched him so hard, his optics nearly cracked.

“It’s Miko,” she said. “And you’re Doc Knoc.”

“Don’t call me that,” he growled grumpily.

“What are you doing here?" Miko trudged closer to him. "Trying to steal some secrets? You know the Decepticons got beat, don’t you?”

“Are none of you humans aware that I’m an Autobot?” and he rolled down his window to reveal the Autobrand on his steering wheel. “Tacky, isn’t it? But those are the rules.”

The little human peered inside the empty car, her hands gripping his door. Knock Out mentally cringed, feeling her nasty, sticky fingers smudge his coating. He backed up a little, enough to make her pull away.

“No more tacky than the flame wrap on your sides,” Miko retorted. Why did everything she say sound like she was responding to some kind of an insult? “And I know you’re an Autobot. I heard Arcee say that just now.”

“I didn’t see you inside the hangar," Knock Out replied. "A wonder I didn’t step on you.”

Miko shook her head. “I was outside.”

“Eavesdropping?” he pressed.

“I wasn’t!” she insisted but she instantly calmed down and kicked at the tarmac. Her voice faltered. “I saw Arcee in there. Was… was Bulk with you?”

“Goodness, no.” He felt a punt to one of his tires. “Why?”

Miko shrugged, still staring at the ground. “No reason. Never mind.” She waved an aggressive hand and stormed off the way she came.

Knock Out shifted into reverse and matched her pace. “Leaving so soon? Did you even say hello to your friends?”

“Aw, why do you even care?" she snapped back stubbornly. "‘Cons don’t care.”

“I could run you over for that remark," he mused aloud. "Or pick you up and leave you on top of one of the hangars all night. Your choice.”

Miko stopped walking and placed her hands on her hips. “I come by sometimes, ok? I look for Bulk and if I don’t see him, I leave.”

“Did you tell Ratchet this personally?” Knock Out implored with jest.

“What do I care about him?” Miko scoffed. Crossing her arms, she slammed herself into a lean against Knock Out’s doors. He would have twitched from disdain if he could have. “Why do I even care about Bulk for? Bulkhead’s never coming back. He’s just a spacebridge away and he’s never coming back to see me...”

“He’s just preoccupied," Knock Out responded, only half-listening. 

“With what? What could be more important than me?” Miko insisted, agony breaking in her voice.

Why was this conversation sounding like something else entirely to him? He replied, but more to himself than to Miko. “Maybe he’s hiding from you.”

“Why?" she accused like an interrogator. "What for?”

Hiding, Knock Out had said out loud. Was he, himself, hiding from someone too? He sounded more agitated this time. “Maybe he doesn’t want to hear what you might say.”

Again, Miko slammed herself against him, but this time, Knock Out didn’t even register the blow. For now he began to realise he was no longer talking to Miko but to himself.

“How would he know what I’d say?” she questioned. Knock Out inwardly cringed at the distraught expression in her voice. It wasn’t her dejection he heard now, but his uncomfortable emotions surfacing from his own haunting memories. He felt jarred when she insisted, “He won’t know ‘til he talks to me!”

“Well maybe the way you treat him is saying enough as it is!” and in a swift motion, Knock Out transformed. 

Caught by surprise, Miko fell back onto the ground. She stared up at Knock Out above her, his transformation still completing. “What does that even mean!” she called up at him, bewildered.

With his shoulders the last pieces to slide into place, Knock Out began to make his way back to the hangar. This was starting to get ridiculous. Arcee had to hurry this up _now_. No, the conversation this human pushed onto him was not comparable to Knock Out’s situation. Talking would only make things worse. The way things were now at Autobot central may not be ideal for him, but at least he was functioning- and Knock Out was nothing like _Bulkhead_.

“Fine, go!” he heard Miko shout after him. An irritated snarl rippled on his faceplate. “And tell Bulk I can forget him just as easily as he forgot me!”

If only Knock Out could forget his memories just as easily.

“What’s going on out here?” The garage door opened all the way and Arcee darted outside, Jack following as quickly as he could. “Knock Out, what are you doing out here?”

“Miko?” Jack called, confusion in his voice when he noticed her. “Come back!”

Knock Out’s eyes shifted around for an excuse. A glowing pulse of coloured light was emanating from a small window in the hangar next to him. “I was just going to look at the sparklings,” he pointed to the lights. That was actually the very last thing he wanted to do here.

“Miko!” Jack ran forwards but came to a stop looking disheveled. Knock Out glanced over himself and saw the little human femme running for the open road. She did not look back.

Arcee approached Knock Out. “You could have told me you were coming out here,” she said in a hushed tone.

“Well, I didn’t know my probation went as far as treating me like a newspark where I need constant supervision,” he nearly hissed back.

“What did you say to her?” Arcee demanded.

Anger rose in Knock Out when she completely deflected from the issue he brought up. Yes, his patience was wearing thin with this whole ‘probation’ scrap. “I didn’t say anything. She saw me, insulted me, then ran off. I _don’t care_ about these humans.”

“That’s just it, Knock Out.” His optics widened in fury when Arcee lifted a digit and jabbed it in his direction. “Maybe you should try caring for a change and others will start to trust you.”

Knock Out’s faceplate was now inches from Arcee’s own. “You bringing up ‘trust’ over and over, but I am losing my humour for this joke. Allow me to clarify, I do not care if that human runs off because she is upset her _owner_ has given her up like an unwanted newspark. Just because I am dealing with a lot of what I _do_ care about doesn’t mean I need to take on more, especially from those who are _rude_.”

The tension in Arcee’s struts relaxed and she looked away from him. “We’re going to talk about this later,” she said brusquely as Jack approached the two.

“That’s not for you to decide, my dear.” Knock Out fought to keep the sneer out of his tone. Servos in fists, he marched back towards the hangar.

Inside the hangar, Knock Out could see Ratchet still working with his back to everyone. Impatience building within, Knock Out began to stride forwards to speak with Ratchet himself when he noticed the remaining humans were heading towards him on the ground.

“I’m taking Raf and Jack home,” June said, looking up at Knock Out. He was caught off guard that she would be sharing such unimportant information with him. “Whatever you’re doing here,” she said, handing the human she called Raf an outer layer of clothing. “Be kind, won’t you?”

Raf looked up at him and gave a small nervous wave.

Knock Out smiled and dipped his helm. “Aren’t I always?”

Was that a smile he saw on her face before she lead a wary Raf outside? Oh yes, they’d reach that mutual authenticity soon.

“Oh, before you go,” Knock Out added, turning to look at June once more. She paused, listening. “If you take the road to the right, you might pick up… an _un_ grateful passenger. But it might be for the best anyway.”

June nodded an understanding thanks and took her leave. Knock Out started to hear her speak to either Jack or Arcee outside, but he tuned them out, his optics now intensely focusing on Ratchet.

Ratchet who had clearly sunken into himself worse than how he had been at the memorial. Knock Out stared at him, both terrified and mesmerised by how much Ratchet had deteriorated since the memorial. A haunting shiver traveled through Knock Out’s frame and he could only wonder what was causing Ratchet to spiral like this. While Knock Out had nothing against Ratchet personally, and he did feel a sympathy for him, it wasn’t a sense of outright concern that Knock Out experienced.

Not like these humans and Arcee, clearly. All of them were surrounding Ratchet emotionally and witnessing this made Knock Out realise how stripped bare he was of such a thing. It was something he had before, but was stolen from him. Now, Knock Out looked at Ratchet, but all Knock Out could think on was how he yearned intensely for what had been ripped from him. In that instant, that lack of pain throbbed inside Knock Out and he gritted his dentae in a silent rage to put an end to it.

Arcee returned to the hangar, arms crossed. Turning to look at her, Knock Out tensed. While he was absolutely fed up with the repetition of conversations such as the one they just had outside the hangar, he was also regretting leering at her with so much hostility. Scrap, he thought. With those arms crossed, was she going to march towards him and tell him it was all over? Knock Out would be back to the planning stages of this hunt if Arcee called it off now.

But instead, Arcee said nothing, and only stared at him from across the hangar. Feeling that same sensation when June had been studying him, he realised Arcee was doing the same now. She was reading into him as if she was just seeing him for the first time. It was that curious look of hers that was trying to pry off his layers and uncover more personal information. Well, Knock Out would have to put a stop to that.

“What?” he bristled. Then he added in a kinder tone, “Like what you see?”

Arcee looked startled having been jarred from her thoughts. “Well?” she ignored his tease. “Did you talk to him yet?”

“I don’t think he even knows we’re here,” Knock Out commented.

Arcee strode forwards forcefully and approached Ratchet. Knock Out followed, standing to Ratchet’s other side but keeping his distance.

“Ratchet,” she placed a servo on Ratchet’s arm. Knock Out’s might have been right after all, it didn't seem like Ratchet even knew they were there. Shaken out of a reverie, he pulled back, optics glossed over from a deep sadness. He looked down at Arcee’s servo, almost looking confused. “Do you remember what I asked?" she continued, "I need you to remove the lock on Knock Out’s weapons. Can you do that for me?”

Ratchet looked from one to the other. “I wasn’t aware it was going to come off so soon.” He added mumbling, “It shouldn’t take me long.” Then turned back to his work.

Arcee exchanged a look with Knock Out. She reached out for Ratchet again and again he looked startled. “Can you do it now?” Ratchet looked lost. “Knock Out’s saws? Can you remove the lock on them?”

Without warning, a small fire lit in Ratchet’s voice. “Of course I can.” He sounded offended.

“Thank-you,” Arcee dipped her helm respectfully. “If you don’t mind, while you’re working on that, I’m going to go out for a quick drive.” Knock Out shot Arcee a mistrustful look. Where was she going? His processor raced with wary thoughts. This was not a part of their plan. She ignored him and continued speaking mainly to Ratchet. “There’s some, uh, sights nearby I’d like to check out before we press on.” She pointed a digit at Knock Out. “You. Don’t touch anything anything he needs.”

Knock Out lifted both servos in a sign of submission but still tried to send her a cautious look, hoping she would take him aside and explain where she was going so suddenly. However, she continued to reject Knock Out’s obvious confusion. Transforming, Arcee flipped in the air into her two-wheeled alt mode and dashed out of sight.

“Do you think she’ll be gone long?” Knock Out voiced his curiosity, hoping to gauge an answer out of Ratchet. “Somewhere nearby?”

Instead, Ratchet mumbled, “Take a seat.” He shoved his strange device he had been working on to the side and starting pulling out the medical tools.

Knock Out looked around for this supposed seat. Before he could say anything, Ratchet waved an irritated servo at a pile of crates. “Right there will do.” Giving him a side-look, Knock Out precariously sat himself down on the makeshift chair.

“Stretch your arms out,” Ratchet said. Knock Out complied without comment. Leaning over the side plating on Knock Out’s arms, Ratchet poked around the rim of it with a tool. They both saw the scarred scrape marks around the panel. “I see you’ve been trying to fix this yourself.”

Knock Out shrugged. “Can you blame me for trying?”

“What would you even need your weapons for?” Ratchet grabbed a small monitor and attached two nodes onto one of Knock Out’s arm panels. He began punching in a code that he had set up to bar Knock Out from breaking into.

“What do the others need theirs for?” Knock Out countered. “If I’m such a trusted member of the team?”

“But you’re not trusted,” Ratchet said.

Knock Out lifted a brow ridge, “Are you being honest or crude?”

“It won’t be long before Bumblebee feels you’re ready to be a part of the team.” Breaking open the combination to Knock Out’s side panel, Ratchet pried open the piece. He began to work on the delicate wires inside Knock Out’s arm.

Knock Out watched him work, but underneath, he felt agitated by what Ratchet had said. “What am I supposed to do to be trusted?”

Ratchet paused, looking up at Knock Out. “Just behave yourself.”

He scoffed. “Doesn’t that seem naive to you?”

“Just don’t _kill_ anyone, or switch sides,” Ratchet clarified. He gave Knock Out a knowing look before returning to his work. “I wasn’t fully paying attention, but like as you were at the memorial. That was an opportunity to show everyone you can integrate with them. It must be why they’re already removing the locks on your weapons, they’re starting to trust you already.”

Knock Out grimaced at that last comment. Sure, something like that. “Well, I guess I acted on good instinct to not kill everyone at the memorial then,” he said sarcastically. “You know, with my bare servos.” Knock Out recollected how Ratchet had behaved at the memorial and how he had seen a lot of himself in Ratchet at the time. But now, it appeared as if he had spiraled drastically further into a wildly severe version how he appeared at the memorial. And so quickly too. “What did you think of the memorial?”

Ratchet didn’t look up. “You don’t need to think about it so hard.” Clearly, Ratchet did not understand Knock Out had been trying to goad how he had felt not what Ratchet thought of Knock Out at the memorial. “I’m aware you’re not a Decepticon stereotype. You’re just like the rest of us.” That comment alone stunned Knock Out, but then he shocked Knock Out further by adding, “That’s why I had you invited to the memorial.”

“You… sorry what?” Knock Out leaned back, the information sinking in. His arms slipped out of Ratchet’s grasp who grunted with annoyance. “ _You_ invited me? You told Bumblebee and Ultra Magnus?”

“Just Bumblebee, now stretch your arms out. Do you want them unlocked or not?”

Knock Out complied. “Why?” he leaned forwards, trying to catch Ratchet’s optics. “Why did you want me there? You don’t know anything about me.”

“No, I don’t,” Ratchet agreed. “But I still recall how you did something for me, when you didn’t know anything about me either. And we were on different sides then.”

“When did I ever do such a thing?”

Ratchet leaned back in his seat. “You helped me escape the _Nemesis_ when Megatron captured me. You gave me the time to escape as well as the information that would ensure my safety. You saved my life and you didn’t know me then.”

Knock Out looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about," he lied.

“You’re not beyond redemption, Knock Out.” That earned a curious glance back at Ratchet.

“That still doesn’t explain why you wanted me at the memorial," Knock Out continued to prod.

“ _I_ didn’t _want_ you at the memorial,” Ratchet elaborated. “I knew you _needed_ to attend.”

Knock Out continued to watch Ratchet work cautiously. “I didn’t observe anyone at the memorial. I suppose you were wrong then?”

Ratchet gave Knock Out a stern look. “I was not wrong. That just tells me you needed it more than you’re even aware of. When you gave me the time and information to escape the from Megatron, you showed me your true nature. I may not ‘know’ you, but I am a doctor and I know how to read bots as I know you do too. We share more similarities than just that, as you also know. I don’t understand why you continue to hide yourself in times where you can be yourself freely.”

“I am always myself,” Knock Out corrected. “I never hold back.”

A stifled mock chuckle escaped Ratchet’s mouthplate. “Huh,” he looked up at Knock Out with a dry expression. “You hardly seem content.”

Knock Out resisted the urge to roll his optics. “So you can ‘read’ that about me too?”

“Or you should argue less _loudly_ with Arcee next time,” and Ratchet jabbed a digit at the hangar entrance.

Understanding dawned on him. “You heard?”

“Everyone heard.”

“And do you agree?” Knock Out implored. “Do you not feel I am being treated unfairly? I am following every rule, I am being a better servant than I ever was to Megatron with these bots. I am at my wits end with them!”

Ratchet exuded a long venting sigh. “Knock Out, I wonder if it’s less to do with trusting you and more about them not knowing how to behave around you. It’s easier to lock away an enemy then be forced to see your own transgressions within them.”

“Do tell.”

“They’re children, all of them,” Ratchet grunted. It was there that Knock Out started to recognise Ratchet beginning to withdraw into himself again. “Children who fought a war, won a war, but we all made decisions none of us would have in our normal lives. It’s how we perceive ourselves as ‘normal’ compared to the ‘enemy’, that’s how we make those decisions and win a war.”

“Well, lucky me, then,” Knock Out said. “I made scrap decisions and I am maligned for them.”

“They malign themselves,” Ratched added.

“And do you?” Knock Out implored. Ratchet exuded a long, rattling venting sigh. But before he could give any kind of an answer, Knock Out responded for him. “Of course you do. Now that the humans have gone to bed, do you feel like being in a sharing mood? Your humans, they talk about you behind your back.” He felt Ratchet twitch. “They worry for you.”

“Wasted energy,” he mumbled.

“Ah, but not to them," Knock Out smirked. "Why do you lead them on like this?”

“I beg your pardon!” Ratchet huffed.

Knock Out recoiled, not expecting such a switch in Ratchet’s disposition. Clearly he had touched on a nerve. “So…” he spoke carefully, “You’re aware that they… worry for you?”

“Mmm,” Ratchet nodded to himself, looking away. His voice trailed off, “I am aware…”

Ratchet could not see Knock Out’s expression shift from curiosity to a dawning sense of resentment. From what Knock Out had witnessed earlier, the humans were all moping about Ratchet behind his back and, seemingly, Ratchet had been fully engrossed in his own depression. To Knock Out, Ratchet had appeared completely oblivious to all of those reaching out to him, Arcee included. As lost and as introverted as Ratchet may have truly been, the realisation that Ratchet still had a conscious awareness that he had those that truly cared about him begging to comfort him and he was still rejecting them burned inside Knock Out’s processor like a cruel joke.

Knock Out had felt respect for Ratchet during the memorial, respect and sympathy intertwined. It had almost been like witnessing a mirror to his own emotions while at the memorial. Ratchet had been expressing what Knock Out had buried within himself. But now, now he looked on at Ratchet with repulsion. How could this bot shut out those around him and withdraw into himself when he had so many that were practically throwing themselves at him? Knock Out’s mouthplate curled. How greedy could this bot be? Just thinking about it sent shivers of contempt through Knock Out’s frame.

“Why do you do it then?” Knock Out asked, fighting to keep the bitterness from his vocaliser.

“What?”

Here Ratchet sat, constantly surrounded by humans that were all offering him attention and support while Knock Out was surrounded by six bots who were doing all they could to avoid him. Knock Out felt his digits flex and he bit his lower mouthplate, fighting to keep himself in check. Knock Out was hyper aware that Ratchet could refuse to unlock his weapons anytime he wished, but keeping his temper in check, well, that was something Knock Out had never been very good at.

“Tell me, you enjoy it don’t you?” Knock Out said, his vocaliser wavering from emotion. “Having them fret around you?”

“How can you say that?!” Ratchet recoiled.

Knock Out felt the rush of jealousy inside. “Is it the only way you feel that anyone cares?”

Ratchet faltered and he knew it was the truth. They both knew it.

“Because,” surprising even himself, a sneer slipped from Knock Out. He hadn’t even intended to push this far but it was no longer himself talking, but the jealousy. “The more you push them away, the more they care, and you know it. How far will you push them? Until you hear them _break?_ ”

Ratchet slammed his tools down and pulled away. “You think I’m not aware of that? Of course I am!” Knock Out knew he deserved such a reaction, but it still took him off guard and he jumped in surprise. “But you’re wrong. I don’t push them away because I need them to care. I push them away… because I am consistently, routinely, _always_ making terrible… _terrible_ decisions…” And Ratchet slumped forwards staring into nothingness.

Knock Out fell silent, his energy from earlier now defusing. He allowed a moment to pass, for Ratchet to dwell and his own curiosity flickered, wondering what these ‘terrible decisions’ could be.

“Tell me,” Knock Out said, his voice hushed, luring Ratchet.

Ratchet looked lost in his depression and didn’t seem to fully acknowledge Knock Out when he replied, “There are so many missed opportunities.”

“Go on.”

Ratchet appeared haunted. “There are things I should have said, so _many_ things… Missed opportunities to say things, I regret now that the moments are gone forever but I am trapped wondering even if I had, would it have been the right thing? Now, I must suffer the consequences… and the guilt. Yes, it’s all too late and there isn’t anything I can do.”

“Then what will you do?”

Ratchet looked at his patient with disgust. “I said there’s nothing that can be done! There’s no going back.”

“So you’re just going to sit there and mope?” Knock Out implored. “Make those who are here and care about you worry? Does that not seem pathetic to you? I get it, you can’t do what you wanted, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do _something._ ”

“What if that something made it worse?” Ratchet reacted.

“Then why do it?” Knock Out pointed out.

Ratchet avoided optic-contact. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

Knock Out lifted his arm into Ratchet’s personal space to indicate for him to keep working. “For who? I’m not talking about ‘the right thing’, I’m talking about what will make you move on and be yourself again.”

“I can’t.”

“Then you’re selfish.”

“What did you say?!” Now Ratchet imploded with outrage but Knock Out spoke quickly to divert his attention.

“Do not misinterpret me. Right now, you don’t deserve those humans,” Knock Out replied bluntly but steadily. “Just give up already, and tell them yourself that there’s nothing they can do to help you.”

“How dare you.” Ratchet slammed down his tool, causing Knock Out to jump and widen his optics. “Is this some sort of a game to you? Do you not understand there are some things you can’t just-”

“Oh, I _do_ understand!” Knock Out stood up, slamming his servos on the table. “You all tell me I don’t understand, but do you recall when you said earlier that we are quite similar? We are the _same_. Does that scare you? You have missed opportunities and I have losses as well. Is that not why you invited me to the memorial? Because you knew I suffer the same as you? The only difference between you and I is that I am attempting to better myself. I better myself and I am humble. You Autobots? You dissolve into pity and act pious about it. _Do something!_ ”

Venting heavily, Knock Out sunk back into his seat. He had not anticipated himself to become so emotional. He felt a surge of embarrassment. Knock Out thought about apologising for yelling but as he regarded Ratchet, he realised Ratchet no longer seemed hostile or offended. Ratchet was leaning against the table, looking down at his reflection.

“I’m not… I’m too tired.” Ratchet said.

“Then why lock out your human pets?” Knock Out sat back down, and stretched his arms out again.

Ratchet stared at the arms in front of him. “ _Don’t_ call them that- and they wouldn’t understand. No, listen,” Ratchet said before Knock Out could interrupt, “it’s too complex. I don’t know if any of them can comprehend. Surely, you understand that. What if they don’t agree? They’re all I have.”

At least Ratchet had them.

“If they don’t,” Knock Out responded, comparing his thoughts to certain bots that he was now surrounded by on the _Nemesis_ , “then do something else. Adapt. But something tells me they will understand. Especially that femme carrier.”

“Huh? June Darby?”

“I think so. She might surprise you. She definitely surprised me- I like her.”

Ratchet huffed and returned to working on Knock Out’s arms much to his relief. Thankfully, Knock Out hadn’t pushed Ratchet so far as to reject unlocking his saws. “I didn’t think she liked you after you crammed her and Agent Fowler in your trunk.”

“I think she’s seen past that.” Ratchet gave Knock Out a side-long look as if he was speaking crazy. “Plus, you can always talk with me,” he continued cautiously. Ratchet looked up at Knock Out, he expected another look of ‘you’re so crazy’ but instead received a pondering glance. In either case, Knock Out added, “Or Arcee.”

“Speaking of Arcee,” Ratchet said. “Do you speak with her often?” Knock Out picked up on that faux-casual tone and he watched Ratchet work on his other arm with suspicion. “I’m not surprised she is the first to bridge a conversation with you.”

“What makes you say that?” Knock Out asked.

“In clearer terms," he elaborated, "I think you pissed her off the least out of all of them.”

“Ha!” Knock Out let out a burst of laughter. “Yes, well, at least I didn’t kill any of her boyfriends!” Ratchet didn’t laugh. “Arcee’s been… kind. I can’t say anything for anyone else. And you, I suppose.”

A gruff snort from Ratchet. “I owe you my life, nothing more.”

“Mm, I do love a good life debt in my court," he began to joke. "Think I can call in some favours?”

That deserved a full-out optic roll. “I’m not the one to call in favours to,” Ratchet retorted dryly. “Now as I was saying about Arcee-”

“What of her?” Knock Out asked, with an exhaustive sigh.

“Understand what I mean when I say this: do not harm her.”

Knock Out paused. Hadn’t Ratchet _just_ been saying how he was essentially on Knock Out’s side? Now, with this comment, it felt like he was cruelly taking back everything he said. It more than frustrated Knock Out, he instantly felt betrayed.

“ _Yes,_ Ratchet," he replied disdainfully. "This ex-Decepticon promises-”

Ratchet shook his helm and lowered his vocaliser. “I said do not misunderstand. Arcee is not one to trust easily, but if she has decided to step outside of her sense of self to communicate with you, then do not abuse it.”

“Because she’s a pretty, petite femme, right?” Knock Out drawled.

“No,” Ratchet amended, “because out of all the Autobots, including yourself, you both have suffered recent losses and have been too rushed by the war to have any time to heal. Now you found a common ground in each other, but be wary not to push each other away.”

Knock Out paused. Then he said, “What do you know of what I’ve lost?”

Ratchet didn't even look up from his work. “Enough to know that you wouldn’t observe during the memorial.”

“Maybe that means I didn’t lose anyone of any importance at all,” Knock Out said loftily.

“My mistake then,” Ratchet said. “My memory might be hazy.”

Knock Out pursed his mouthplate with curiosity. “Your memory?”

“Well,” Ratchet rambled while returning to working on Knock Out’s arm again. “I do have this pre-war memory about a risky operation I once performed on a young seeker. He was brought to me in a state of near death. Foolishly, he thought he could perform a t-cog transplant on himself.”

“Foolish indeed,” Knock Out said, exploring the distant memory. “But I don't see what that has to do with-”

“No, no,” Ratchet concluded. “I’m recalling the bot that brought that near lifeless seeker to my practice. He had a striking resemblance to a bot on Megatron’s ship. But then, that was millions of years ago and my processor isn’t what it used to be.”

Knock Out paused, then said, “Yes, it probably isn't.”

“And… I am done.” Ratchet leaned back, closing the panels to Knock Out’s arms. “You have your saws back.”

“Excellent!” Knock Out stood up and instantly transformed his arms. In a whirl, his dual saws buzzed and spun with a deadly speed. “A lullaby to my audio receptors,” he purred. Transforming again, Knock Out admired the drill on his arm. One more transformation and he returned his servos. “Thank-you.”

Reaching across the table, Ratchet pulled over some energon in a mug and took a sip. “Congratulations on having them back. Now, would you like a cup of energon while we wait for Arcee to return?”

“No hi-grade?” Knock Out asked.

Ratchet began pouring hot standard energon into a clean mug for him. “This will feel better. It warms your internals.”

Knock Out took the mug and didn’t bother to hide the grimace when he looked down at the steam emanating from the energon. “Doubtful, but I appreciate the gesture.” He gave a brief cheers and allowed the warm energon to slide down his vocaliser.

Ratchet was right, it did feel warm against his internals. It was both soothing to him and lulled him into a calmer state. It was almost like the hi-grade Knock Out had been indulging in lately, but without that heavy tranquilising feeling that Knock Out desperately sought before powering down each night.

Both doctors sat at the table, holding their warm cups and drank the warm energon. Together, they talked in quiet tones on varying topics relating to their shared profession.

That was how they were, even chuckling while engrossed in medical conversation, when Arcee finally returned to the base. Joining the two mechs, she took a cup for herself and leaned against the stack of crates, listening and sometimes inserting her usually incorrect input.

As time flew by, Knock Out and Arcee exchanged looks and politely excused themselves from Ratchet’s presence. What a brief moment it had been, Knock Out considered. But the three of them, the most unlikely of bots, yet somehow all connected to one another by one means or the other, had enjoyed themselves in a peaceful conference. Knock Out would have cheerfully returned to such a time in the future, but now it was time to sharpen his relaxed processor and return to the mission.

No, Knock Out told himself. Even this could never be a substitute for returning to a life of normalcy. For nothing would soothe his spark like snuffing out the existence of the bot who had taken his normalcy away from him. This, Knock Out was absolutely insistent.

Before leaving through the space bridge, Knock Out looked to Arcee next to him. He saw the very gleam in his optics reflected in her own and he knew then that she sought the same solace. Knock Out grinned wickedly. Soon, it would be theirs.

 

_**(The Flashback. . . After the War)** _

Knock Out sat alone in the dark. The only light emanated from his own optics. The datascroll in his servo reflected red as he paged through the catalog. With his other servo, he held a delicate glass of hi-grade energon. He had been drinking too much of the stuff lately, he knew this, yet it still managed to lure him into a state of coping.

As his optics scruitinised the heftily built automobiles in a way that was more than just function, his processor was lost elsewhere. Soon he no longer saw the broad and robust automobiles but instead could see an end that he had never been able to convince himself existed.

He took a sip of the sweet cure to his isolation. It would be a shame to leave the stuff behind.

Somehow, he had managed to convince an Autobot to share his same goals. He hadn’t been expecting her to come around to his suite a second time and certainly not with her mind already changed. It had been an all too pleasing surprise, how she had burst into his suite as he had been sitting on his berth putting his image cards back in their correct order. Shocked, he had greeted her in the main suite, where Arcee then proposed the hypothetical question of what his plan was if she agreed. Understanding that persuading that hypothetical Arcee into an assured and committed Arcee was just a sliver distance between one another, Knock Out laid out his plan. And after he finished, he looked to her and smiled to himself with satisfaction. She was committed. Only as long as it was between the two of them 

Yes, somehow indeed, he had managed to come up with the right words that sounded reasonable to an idealistic and gallant Autobot like Arcee.

There wasn’t any way Knock Out could have known that one of the Autobots would have started shifting through his belongings, nor have a _very_ personal vendetta with the very bot he desired to kill. None of the Autobots had ever come by his suite, not even to just ‘check in’ on him because of that stupid probation. He was their medic now, he was supposedly ‘part of the team’, but every bot just seemed to want to avoid him and have as little possible to do with him. But now, out of all of them, that little two-wheeler who he had tried to kill in battle more than once was purposely seeking him out. And for all things, he found ironic coming from an Autobot post-war, to kill someone.

He’d killed before, many times of course. But never had he lusted for a kill like this. Because this time, it was more than just destroying a spark, it was a freedom from this insanity. Or should it be said, a lack of insanity?

He vented heavily. Perhaps another canister of hi-grade would help. Didn’t it always? Putting down the datascroll, he sauntered over to the bar as he finished his glass.

Where was the dizziness? The uncontrollable shedding of lubricant from ones optics or the downright loss of sanity? Pouring another drink, he watched as his own guilt flowed into and mingled with the energon.

Why?

Why wasn’t it worse than this?

No amount of hi-grade energon should be able to mask what he should be experiencing. Was he just this cruel of a bot? Had Knock Out been that furious back then? Had... had the apology not been good enough for Knock Out as it had seemed back then? He was a doctor. He knew what the textbook symptoms should be inside and yet he felt nothing. Every emotion of nothing, in fact: empty, dead, hollow but where was the _pain?_ Furious, Knock Out flung the glass across the room, smashing it against the wall.

Where was the _pain?_

Pain, it was supposed to be a _fun_ word for him. But now, it came up far too often and its presence absent but aggressively yearned for. At least if there had been pain, then Knock Out could at least feel on the right path within the reality of the circumstance he did not want. Instead he was lost and in limbo, unable to move on yet unable to function in the void he was in.

As a doctor treating himself, he asked his spark over and over: _where was the pain?_

Leaning on the bar, he looked at the catalogs laying sprawled over the table. There was always immediate remedies to forget, even if they didn’t last long. 

Knock Out looked to his berthroom and tapped his digits against his mouthplate. Arcee had been right when she had said he wasn’t staying in there. No, he hadn’t since all this began and that had been so long ago by now. His room that he had loved and adorned with mirrors, waxes, image cards and other items he found pleasurable, now felt like a cold, foreign storage.

He looked to the ‘ _other_ ’ room. It had too many memories as well, too many familiar sounds, scents and sights. Every power down it called him in, whispering how it could soothe his lack of pain and Knock Out fell for it every time. It was an encompassing chamber, but it offered what he craved.

Knowing his judgement was being swayed by the myriad of drinks he had for the past joor, Knock Out reached for a catalog before heading into the dark vault. He would grab one of the ‘medical devices’ off the table in the room as well. Yes, Knock Out needed some form of anaesthesia before powering down should the lack of pain engulf him again.


	4. The 'Walk & Talk' |&| There's a Party Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcee and Knock Out have finally begun their hunt for Airachnid. Along the way, they get to know more about one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I want to thank grayseeker and buttadventure for their comments and everyone else for the kudos and reads!

“I’m going to sign out the apex armor,” Arcee explained. “We’ll also need the phase shifter. According to Ultra Magnus, Smokescreen has it.”

Knock Out lit up at the mention of the phase shifter. “Oh, I do love that relic. But I don’t see how Smokescreen is going to hand it over to me.”

On the _Nemesis’_ bridge, Arcee and Knock Out stood huddled by Soundwave’s old surveillance station where they had just returned from Ratchet’s. Of what they knew, they were alone in the giant room, going over the plan before heading out in their search for Airachnid.

Knock Out was continually stressing to Arcee that they should leave right away. His enthusiasm to continue their pursuit daunted Arcee but at the same time, she was also able to recognise that his enthusiasm was equal to her own. In that conclusion, she understood that she was only intimidated by her own desire to kill. Arcee assured Knock Out that she didn’t want to linger for long either. She was supposed to be, according to her explanation to Ultra Magnus, staying with Ratchet for awhile and she didn’t want to raise questions if she was seen wandering around. That, and Knock Out walking the corridors other than the one to his suite and medbay might arouse suspicions too.

Arcee shook her helm, “I’m going to get both relics. You just go back to your suite and gather all the information and tools you think we’ll need. Airachnid is a triple changer. I’ve fought against her multiple times and somehow she always has the upper servo. But I’ve never fought her with any of the relics on our side— at least not these two. She won’t be expecting them.”

“Excellent,” Knock Out replied, “she’ll have nowhere to run to and then we’ll crush her like the insecticon she is! No more hiding in the shadows for that _bug_.”

Unable to control herself, Arcee smirked. “Let’s not get over-confident here, but it does seem like we’ll stand a fighting chance. Now go, I’ll get the relics.”

Knock Out hesitated. “Are you sure you won’t need help getting the phase shifter fr—”

“Arcee!”

The two conspiring bots felt both their sparks skip a pulse in surprise when an unexpected voice broke into their private conversation. They had both been caught up in their plan that neither one of them had heard the sound of the bridge door _whooshing_ open.

“What’s this I hear about you not coming with me on a sparkling run?” Wheeljack lumbered towards them. His walk was brisk but aged, most likely due to old battle injuries. But he masked them well and the all-too real bravado carried him with an intimidating air. Old Wheeljack may be, but he could still strike you and win the fight before you even knew there was one.

“You talked to Ultra Magnus?” Arcee called across the bridge.

Wheeljack grunted. “Yeah, I talked to Magnus. ‘Said you were takin’ some time off, what’s this all about? Don’t tell me this has to do with the memorial in some w-wa-” Approaching them, Wheeljack just appeared to have noticed Knock Out’s presence and he stared at him with mistrust. “What are you doing here?”

For once, Knock Out looked unable to concoct a smooth retort.

“He’s with me,” Arcee explained hurriedly. “He needed to speak with Ratchet. Doctor stuff, you know.”

“How’s the doc doing?” Clearly Wheeljack meant Ratchet. As he said this, he seemed to loom over Arcee.

“Same,” Arcee replied. She didn’t really have time to go into a conversation about Ratchet. “He has his moments.”

“He needs to get over himself,” Wheeljack snorted, surprising Arcee by the cold rebuff. “We should just drag him back here and lock him in the medbay. We all have work to do.”

“May I remind you that you already have a stationed doctor?” Knock Out interjected boldly, waving a servo at himself. “And, if I may say so, I’m doing a pretty bang-on job.”

Wheeljack appeared to resist wanting to look at Knock Out. The scruffy mech looked his shiny, scratch-free frame up and down with utter disdain. Arcee held herself, hoping the two would not engage in a skirmish of any kind.

“Bots like you,” Wheeljack snorted, “make me wonder how you can have survive the war without a single scratch.”

Arcee could see that familiar aggressive grin spread slowly on Knock Out’s faceplate. It sent reverberations through her frame.

“Bots like _me_ ,” Knock Out replied, “actually _save_ lives.”

The two mechs stared at each other with intense loathing as if Knock Out had just given Wheeljack the worst insult in existence. 

Finally giving a look of disgust, Wheeljack responded, “Yet you're more than willing to throw the rest of us into the fire. How do those 'morals' fit a ' _doctor_ '?"

Clearly, Arcee thought, there was something more going on here than meets the eye. She motioned to step between them, but caught herself when Knock Out countered back. 

“Morals?” he sneered and inclined his helm questioningly. “I thought a _Wrecker_ called for back-up, not a _cover-up_.”

“Arcee.” Wheeljack turned away from Knock Out, signaling he was done acknowledging him. “I don’t have anyone else available for my team. You’re coming with.”

She hesitated before responding. Looking from Wheeljack to Knock Out then back to Wheeljack. Did these two know each other? 

"Come on," Wheeljack turned to leave, clearly expecting Arcee to follow.

“Can’t,” Arcee planted her servos on her hips. “You can try Bumblebee—”

“That kid?” Wheeljack turned away from the both of them now, irritation building in his vocaliser. “He’s too busy playing leader.”

“Don’t treat him like that,” Arcee snapped.

“Fine!” Wheeljack was already on his way out of the bridge. “I’ll go it alone,” he called, “just like always!” and the door shut behind him.

Arcee looked up at Knock Out. He did not remove his glaring gaze from Wheeljack until he had left the room. While she was wondering what to say, or if she should ask what that conversation they had was about, he abruptly turned to exchange a critical look with her. 

"What a cheery one, hm?" he said.

“He always pushes everyone away,” Arcee replied, still feeling a little unnerved and confused..

“Everybot’s been doing that since the Memorial,” Knock Out commented. That cruel smile was gone, now replaced with a welcoming, almost friendly one. “But not us, huh?” he continued, “We’re actually doing something about our _pain_. Dear Wheeljack is just an example of what we could end up as, I fear.”

“I suppose so…” Arcee nodded but she contemplated the credibility of that statement.

 

With the apex armor stashed away in her locked suite, Arcee headed for where Smokescreen resided. She wasn’t confident that he would be there. After all, he was supposed to be out with Bulkhead soon, but from what Arcee recalled, Ultra Magnus was not done calculating his priority list of what buildings to start sweeping through. Smokescreen could be out on a drive after all, but Arcee was banking on the fact that he would be relaxing in his own suite. Something the young mech had been very thrilled about.

Arcee pressed her servo to the suite datapad and a small chime sounded from within the room. She heard scuffling from inside and Arcee knew Smokescreen was there, thankfully.

“Hey!” Smokescreen grinned when he saw Arcee standing in his doorway. “What are you doing here?” he asked cheerfully. “Oh, scrap, is it time to go? Am I late?” Smokescreen darted inside frantically and Arcee allowed herself in. “Bulkhead is gonna give me another lecture I swear!”

Wandering into the room, she was surprised by how clean it was. Smokescreen didn’t strike her as the time to keep a clean suite. Although, Arcee wondered if that could be in part of the fact that Smokescreen owned far fewer things than say Knock Out who had, after all, been living on the _Nemesis_ for orns. The screen was on, displaying some human romantic comedy movie on mute.

“One klick!” Smokescreen called, darting all around the suite, “I just need to grab the—” and he reached for the phase shifter on a bench table and slapped it on his wrist. “The phase shifter! Alright, good to go!”

“Calm down,” Arcee admonished, but with a laugh. “That’s not why I’m here!”

“Oh!” The doors on Smokescreen’s back relaxed. “What a relief! So what, uh, what brings you here then?” She could have sworn his chassis puffed when he said, “Anything I can help with?”

Arcee eyed the phase shifter on Smokescreen’s wrist. She cursed to herself. She _had_ been hoping to just sneak it without Smokescreen’s noticing but now that he was wearing it, it would make retrieving the relic far more challenging.

“So how are you liking your new room?” Arcee asked, hoping to get the talkative mech enrapt in a conversation while she decided on a plan.

“Oh! Are you kidding me?” Smokescreen enthused, “It’s amazing! This is the first time I’ve ever had my own room! We had to bunk with others at the academy and let me tell you, the bot in the bunk above me? He vented like a drill all through power down!”

“You _never_ had your own place?” Arcee asked, her mind still preoccupied with how to retrieve the relic.

“No way,” Smokescreen insisted, “Even when I was stationed with Alpha Trion, I had to return to base— or I just powered down in the library somewhere. It’s not the same.”

“What about before the academy?” Arcee asked. She needed to keep Smokescreen talking.

Smokescreen jabbed a digit at himself. “I was raised through the system since I was a newspark.” Arcee raised a brow ridge. “That’s why I joined the elite guard. There’s not much else to do when you transform from a newspark and you don’t have any shanix to your name. They just let you go and it’s either find a job or join some government organisation.”

The story was unfortunately an all-too common one, especially during the height of events before the war broke out. In the war, Arcee had heard younger bots share that story with her before. In fact, she remembered someone she still knew had a similar tale. 

“Have you talked to Bumblebee about that?" Arcee recalled. "I think he was raised as a newspark through the system and joined a military program too.”

“No, really!?” Smokescreen replied. “But he wasn’t a member of the elite guard?”

“He joined some other program, I believe,” she said.

Smokescreen mulled this over, “I wonder what his experience was like? You don’t meet a lot of friendly bots growing up in that kind of environment. Most of ‘em wanna beat you up and act tougher than the rest. ‘Guess that’s why we’re both so durable!”

“Hmm,” was Arcee’s agreement. She nodded and Smokescreen seemed content with her participation in the conversation.

Truthfully, she could not keep her eyes off of the phase shifter. The problem was, Smokescreen never sat still. He was full of boundless energy, nearly hopping around like a young seeker and it was testing Arcee’s patience painfully.

“Funny though,” Smokescreen prattled on, “Bumblebee growing up the same way I did. Everybot always thinks it’s a shame to be raised through the sparkling system instead of with sires, but I don’t think it’s that bad. Especially if you use Bumblebee as an example: killing Megatron (kinda), restoring our planet, leading the new wave of generations, I mean that’s what destiny is all about right?”

“Destiny?” Arcee asked. Perhaps she could just ask to borrow the phase shifter…

“Well, yeah—”

A gentle chiming sound rang through the suite.

“Huh!” Smokescreen tilted his helm. “That must be Bulkhead then, I better head out. Sorry, Arcee!”

Hissing under her breath, Arcee bolted forwards to stop Smokescreen when the door opened and she froze. The bot in the doorway was _not_ Bulkhead.

“Oh, Arcee, good! I- I heard you were here!” Knock Out strode forcefully into the room without permission, pushing past Smokescreen who flustered in protest. “Ratchet just comm-linked me, he says he has some urgent task for you!”

Arcee squinted in response. What was Knock Out attempting? Was he telling the truth or was this some sort of ruse? She was going to settle on ‘ruse’ most definitely.

Taller than Knock Out, Smokescreen peered over his shoulder at Arcee in confusion. “Look,” he started to say to Knock Out, “I didn’t invite you in here, could you, uh—”

Knock Out whipped around so fast and gave what Arcee could only assume was a very stern expression for Smokescreen clammed up almost instinctively. “ _Don’t_ speak to me that way,” he snapped. To Arcee, Knock Out persisted although more aggrieved than before, “Ratchet needs you _now_.”

He seemed to be conveying a message to her with his optics, but it only hit her once she saw Smokescreen lift an arm to give his helm a baffled rub with his servo when she noticed…

“Alright, let’s go!” she agreed.

Knock Out raced after her, but she noticed out of the corner of her optics that Knock Out shot Smokescreen one final look. Arcee pelted down the corridor, knowing to head not to the bridge where they could use the spacebridge to visit Ratchet again, but to her own suite. Glancing around themselves to make sure no-one saw them, Arcee and Knock Out darted inside. Only then did Knock Out unfurl his servo and reveal the phase shifter. Arcee was utterly stunned.

“How!" she cried out in elated surprise. "How did you manage- Smokescreen was wearing it! _When_ did you take it?”

Knock Out was basking in the praise. “I snuck it off using the phase shifter against itself. All it took was to shift it through him when I shoved past him.”

“How did you think of that?" Arcee asked increduously. "And so quickly?”

“You can say it’s an old trick _I_ invented,” Knock Out replied, his optics alight with mischief. “It’s not the first time I’ve done that, or something to that effect. I saw him wearing it when he answered the door. I’m not surprised, he seems to have an eye for shiny things. Besides, I thought you could use some backup.”

Arcee stood back, marveling at Knock Out’s ingenious quick thinking. He may not be the most battle experienced bot, but his clever processor was definitely going to be welcomed addition to their mission. With her honed fighting skills and Knock Out’s guile, Arcee felt a surge of confidence that they would return from their hunt successful.

It wasn’t just success that Arcee was striving for, it was what success would mean for her. It was the only reason she was agreeing to hunt down a Decepticon during this post-war period. There wasn’t going to be anything- no memorial, no speech from Optimus Prime- that would put out that fire within her now. It was that fire that kept inner peace at bay and Arcee knew it. She could no longer kid herself into thinking that the memorial was the sedation to her pain.

Now, Arcee thought of Wheeljack, of Ultra Magnus and Ratchet, they were all kidding themselves. No-one was harmonious inside and instead of allowing the inner turmoil to fester into a depression like everyone else, as Knock Out explained, they were going to do something about it. Even if it meant the death of another bot. There was no reason, she concluded, for her to be so concerned with killing Airachnid. The scale wasn’t even to begin with anyway. Airachnid’s death toll was far too high to ever be equal. But it wasn’t about that anymore, Arcee sought justice for herself now, as Knock Out did. Airachnid had something of theirs, and they were going to take it back.

No more inner distress and wondering what to do with herself, Arcee thought determinedly. She reached for the apex armor and Knock Out reluctantly handed her the phase shifter.

“Now,” Knock Out followed Arcee into the corridor. “Let’s just drop by my suite for my equipment and let’s get this hunt started, shall we?”

 

Arcee scanned the horizon. Nothing to be seen as far as the optic could see. Nothing but grey rock jutting out of the ground on a mostly flat plane. The only splash of colour on the devoid and barren surface was Arcee and Knock Out themselves. Their bright blue and red colours stuck out painfully and would be a hindrance if their plan relied on any sort of camouflage. 

She had never learned much about either of Cybertron’s moons. Most of her mandatory studies should have been about Cybertron and its environmental history, but instead the rebellious seekers she had been paired with to intern for had focused on other planets. Such as, what had been at the time, a mythical planet named Earth.

Luna 2 was not unlike Earth. Despite the lack of colour and any plant-life, it was, at least, organic in material. However, the sight before Arcee may not have stirred the same emotions as gazing at the beauty of Earth did, there was a sentiment within. Just looking at the open landscape sent something akin to adrenaline through Arcee’s spark. Knowing that Airachnid, for sure, was out there somewhere in that bleak emptiness made Arcee feel unprepared. But with the relics on her side, and Knock Out too, Arcee was sure this had to be the final showdown. If Airachnid had been on Luna 2 this long, then there should be nowhere else for her to run to. They had her cornered and with so few places to hide, success felt almost guaranteed.

“So,” Arcee spoke, breaking the silence. She turned to Knock Out. “Where are we headed? That rock over there?” She lifted a servo and pointed. “Or maybe that one way over there?”

“Very cute,” Knock Out replied. His attention was focused on a small handheld device. “Allow me to just tune this properly and we’ll be on our way.”

Arcee peered over his arm at the screen. She pointed with a digit. “I guess we just follow that red dot, huh?”

“That is the gist of it," he explained. "I set it up to track her energon signal. Looks like she’s moving around, but in one area. Not too far either. But I wonder if we should avoid travelling in our alt modes.”

Arcee gave him a concerned look. “What makes you say that?”

Knock Out murmured to himself and waved a servo. “My only concern is the noise level and the dust we kick up will be visible from far off. We might as well do what we can to keep a lower cover, should we not?”

Arcee nodded in agreement. She lifted the apex armor in one servo and the phase shifter in the other. “Alright, which do you want? I was thinking of taking the apex armor since I’ve used it before.”

She wasn’t sure if Knock Out’s look of surprise was sarcastic or genuine. “You’re trusting me with one of the relics?”

“Well, doesn’t that make the most sense to you?” she asked. “If we both have a trick hidden, then we’ll be able to help the other if there’s trouble. She won’t be expecting it either.”

“I always did take a liking to the phase shifter. It’s such a fun toy.” Knock Out marveled as Arcee handed him the relic. His optics darted back up at her as if he was half expecting her to change her mind.

“Try and shield it with your doors as much as possible,” Arcee advised. She clipped the apex armor to her back. She’d only need to reach back and tap it to unleash its power. “Now whenever you’re ready, lead the way.” Knock Out flashed her a pleased smile and they took their first steps together as a team.

They walked in silence. With the travel speed slower than what Arcee was used to, what with not being able to travel by alt mode and the view nothing to look at, her processor began to wander.

She knew this was no longer for Tailgate, but for herself. She had come to realise that now after her discussion with Ultra Magnus. She had turned Knock Out’s initial invitation to kill Airachnid down as she had been told by bots like Optimus Prime that she should let such a grudge go. But watching all the bots around her mourn after the memorial, seeing how loss continued to affect and shape them into someone they were not, it only cemented the resolve that she could not allow herself to follow in their steps.

Even Knock Out next to her had been like all the rest. Arcee had explored his suite and witnessed the state it was in. Clearly from all the empty hi-grade energon canisters she had stepped over, he had been suffering like all the rest. Dawning on Arcee, she realised it was only a Decepticon that was willing to do something about it. Knock Out was the only one to recognise and accept what the cure to the lost self could be.

Did that make Arcee anything like a Decepticon? She wondered and felt instant resistance to being compared to anything like a Decepticon. She had wanted no part of this hunt if it meant being like a Decepticon, but even as she had thought this, there had been that part within her that _yearned_ for the kill. That voice had yelled at her and had only felt validated by her Autobot teammates when she witnessed how they were all retreating into themselves. Knock Out had been right, hadn’t he? It was a clear vision of herself, if she chose to do nothing.

She looked to Knock Out walking silently next to her. He wasn’t like other Decepticons, Arcee could verify that now. But what would he be like after they completed their mission? For that matter, what would she revert to? Before Cliffjumper? Before Tailgate? It was impossible to even fool herself that she could ever be like she had been before the war. So what did that leave? Who was post-war, but at peace, Arcee? Arcee longed to be that bot but had no idea who that even was.

“How about a game of I-Spy?” Knock Out’s voice derailed her train of thought.

She turned to him, curiously. “How about we just say ‘you win’ and be done?”

Knock Out grinned and looked ahead. “But aren’t you curious to know what could be grey? Here’s a hint, it’s not that rock over there.”

“Alright,” Arcee said. “If you’re so into games, here’s a fun one for you. It’s called, let’s get to know each other.”

“Hmm,” Knock Out pretended to contemplate the notion. “It doesn’t sound like something I can cheat at. Not interested.”

“Knock Out,” Arcee implored. “You’re on a planet with six bots, you can’t just sequester yourself off.”

“Well, sequestering myself from the group isn’t exactly by choice is it?” he reminded her.

Arcee rolled her optics in exasperation. “All the better to get to know each other. Maybe if I know you a little more, I can put in a word to Bumblebee about letting you off probation early. Bumblebee used to be best friends with my old partner, Tailgate. We go back to really early war days when I was first stationed after training. There’s my first fun fact, now it’s your turn.”

Knock Out raised a brow ridge at her. “What a fun fact,” he drawled. “I was _dying_ to know how long you knew Bumblebug.”

“Then what would you like to know?” she offered.

An impish grin crossed Knock Out’s faceplate. “Since you brought it up, how about we delve into the topic of Tailrate?”

“ _Tailgate_ ," Arcee corrected.

“Yes, do share.”

“Share what? My history with him?” Arcee placed her hands on her hips and vented out as she realised what a long and far off history that was. She had thought of Tailgate often since his death but she had never gone so far as to the very beginning. Emotions began to swell and she never thought she could be so taken like this by Tailgate’s memories after so many years had past. It was so long ago, but she realised now that her spark would never forget him.

“Well,” Arcee began, “I said I met Tailgate at the first place I was stationed, but that’s not entirely the beginning. I actually first met him by accident in the midst of a battle. You see, at the time I was undercover, hot on the trail of these two Decepticons who had raided my unit's base. The funny thing is, Tailgate wasn’t even an Autobot at the time, not technically. He was just a civilian who got caught in the crossfire. It was either let him die or blow my cover— I had no choice if I wanted to save his life. Because Tailgate was just a civilian, it was two against one, but that’s when Bumblebee showed up—”

“Well this is a _boring_ start,” Knock Out commented dryly.

“What did you expect out of that!” Arcee exclaimed. “He meant a lot to me, Knock Out. I am completely opening up to you about him! What more do you want?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Knock Out replied snarkily. “Maybe some juicy details? You did say he was your partner.”

“Yes, I did,” she replied.

“So tell me something about that!" he encouraged, "I thought we were trying to get to know each other. That means no secrets, right?”

“I’m not holding in any secrets,” Arcee said.

“But you said Tailboy was your _partner_ ," he pointed out.

“I did, what, do you want some stories about some missions we went on?” Arcee was utterly lost, why did Knock Out keep putting emphasis on ‘partner’?

“No!” He was becoming agitated. “Tell me about your _relationship_ with him.”

Arcee contemplated this. “About my partnership with Tailgate?”

Knock Out paused. He inclined his helm with caution. “Yes… your,” and here he literally used air quotes. “ ‘Partnership’.”

Arcee paused. Air quotes. Why would he use air quotes? Wait a minute. Wait just a- “Wait what, you thought Tailgate and I…?”

Knock Out looked like he was trying to teach a Scraplet to fetch a rock. “Well you said ‘ _partner_ ’.”

“Yes! He was my partner- not a _romantic_ partner!" Arcee couldn't believe what Knock Out had been trying to get at this whole time. "You know, like a partner on a mission..? Someone you work well with so you go on multiple missions with them because you trust each other?” She squinted at Knock Out as the gears in her processor turned. “So, what’s _your_ definition of partner then?”

“Clearly,” Knock Out chuckled to himself, “not the same as yours.” But then his expression shifted and he gave her a bewildered look. “Aren’t you here _because_ of Tailgate?”

“Well-” she started to respond.

“Then why are you here?!” She was caught off guard when he abruptly stopped walking. He stared at her with an expression like he was trying to put together a complicated puzzle. “You’re telling me you’re here, to get revenge on her over some bot she killed years ago? Some bot that wasn’t even your _partner?_ ”

Arcee realised he was sounding accusatory, as if she didn’t have any right to feel the hatred she did towards Airachnid because… because why? “He was my ‘partner’! Tailgate will always be important to me! Knock Out, she _murdered_ him. And Mirage and others!” she felt insulted at having to be defensive. “I have every reason to want in on this plan! Just because they died a long time ago doesn’t take away the pain." 

She reflected on Tailgate and how she felt she had let him down all those years ago. Yes, even still, she remembered how terrified he had initially been in joining the war and even wanted out after experiencing a taste of it. But then she recalled how she had pushed him into staying. What if Arcee had let him make his decision and leave all those years ago? Would Tailgate still be alive? He had been haunted by the idea of being tortured and that's exactly how he had spent his last living moments. 

"And just because I wasn't romantically involved with Tailgate," Arcee added, "doesn't mean what happened to him doesn't still affect me.”

Knock Out looked at her for a moment more before continuing with his walk. She thought she even saw him give a little aloof shrug. “I guess I was misguided about your reasonings,” he said quietly. Was it just Arcee, or did he even have a little tinge to his faceplate? As if he was... embarrassed?

Arcee reflected in silence as they walked. Was he really unable to relate to the idea that anyone other than a romantic partner could be important? 

“Tell me… if your definition of partner is different from mine…” She looked at Knock Out and raised a single brow ridge. “Didn’t you say that… you know, Breakdown was your ‘ _partner_ ’?”

“Yes?” he asked.

She spoke tentatively, “You and Breakdown were…”

“Partners?”

“But _your_ definition of ‘partners’?” Arcee clarified slowly.

He didn't respond right away. But eventually, he said, “That was my understanding of the word when you provided the information that Tailgate was your partner.”

Arcee stopped walking. She watched, speechless, as Knock Out continued on, not noticing or caring if she was still in step with him.

“Wait, so,” Arcee jogged up and leaned into Knock Out’s sight. “You and Breakdown?" She recalled the image cards she had seen of the both of them. It now dawned on her that those hadn't just images of two friends taken millions of years ago. "All this time, even before the war?”

Knock Out came to a dead stop. “I beg your pardon? How did you know-”

"Oh um,” Arcee struggled to backtrack. She hadn’t intended to come outright and tell Knock Out that she had shifted through his personal image cards. “I thought maybe it said in the video somewhere…” But his return expression said he didn’t believe one word of that. 

"Yes," Knock Out said smoothly, but there was some irritation to his vocaliser. "Even before the war. What other reason would you think we would stick together all these years?"

Arcee shrugged, "I don't know, because you're friends- because you were partners in the simplest terms."

He gave her an impassive look. "Interesting. And here I thought we understood one another."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arcee asked suspiciously.

Knock Out stopped walking and faced her. "Well, I was under the illusion you were coming along for the same reasons as myself. You and Taillate. Myself and Breakdown. But alright, that’s fine,” he continued, his tone underlined with slight aggression. “Whatever grievances you have with Airachnid, I am more than grateful for your aid. As long as we both want her dead, then what does it matter, right?” He continued walking.

But he still didn’t sound at ease and Arcee had a feeling she understood why.

“Tail _gate_ might not have been my _partner_ ,” she clarified. Even before she said his name, a part of her regretted even bringing him up. Now not just his memories surfaced, but the pain as well. “Cliffjumper was.”

"Cliffjumper?" This was definitely the key to turn Knock Out’s disposition around.

“Yeah.” Surprising herself, a smile surfaced as she recalled him. “And he almost made it to the end of the war too. But you don’t know that when it happens, do you? Yet it hurts even more when you realise how _close_ you were to making it out alive together.”

Knock Out nodded. His tense frame now relaxed after Arcee shared her personal story. “Airachnid get him too?” he asked.

Arcee found herself repressive to respond. The question forced her to remember what she kept trying to forget inside. “No. I guess… Starscream did.”

Knock Out’s optics shuttered. “Starscream? Then… would it be fair to assume this hunt is only part one for you?”

“How do you mean?” She began to feel uncomfortable.

“Well,” he looked a touch confused. “Don’t you want Starscream dead as much, if not more so, than Airachnid?”

Arcee vented heavily. “It’s really not that easy.”

“Why not!” Knock Out looked down at her incredulously. “You had the chance to kill him when he was captured during the end of the war. Why not just go slay him right there?”

“He saved my life,” she said, responding to a question that wasn’t asked.

“And he killed your boyfriend,” Knock Out provided.

“He didn’t know.”

Knock Out scoffed, “You think Starscream would have cared?”

“Maybe.” She looked away, suddenly feeling hostile herself. “I mean, it’s really complicated. I knew-”

Knock Out shook his helm fervently. “You clearly don’t know him as well as you think you do. He may have been a fool, but he was a ruthless one. All those years next to Megatron, do you honestly believe he would have had one ounce of sympathy for anyone? Starscream only cared for Starscream.”

“Yeah, I _know_ ,” Arcee replied, becoming irritated with Knock Out's persistence. “Look-”

“How strange it is that you seem to be more defensive for ‘Screamer than you do for your lover’s death,” he said dubiously. 

“Now _that’s_ not true!” Arcee snapped, truly outraged.

But Knock Out continued, “How long had you been with Cliff?”

Here she shut her optics, feeling the agony begin to suffocate her as it always did. “I guess a few groons but-”

Her inquisitor recoiled in shock. “That’s nothing!” Knock Out gasped.

“Excuse me!” Arcee couldn’t believe Knock Out’s reaction. Hadn’t he wanted to hear she had a- quote, unquote- ‘partner’, too? But now he seemed dismissive and judgemental. “Time doesn’t mean anything when you’re in love.” 

“I bet you can still recall a time when your berth was a single,” he leered at her. “Do you even remember the sounds of him loudly venting next to you in his power down? Annoying, perhaps, but at least you knew the two of you survived another day of war? Or the internal warmth emanating from within his frame next to yours? Because those memories still burn in my processor.” 

“Yes,” she answered instantly. “I do.” 

And finally, when they exchanged another look, Knock Out seemed to finally concede. With the tense air diffused between them, Arcee began to recall all the times she had fought against Knock Out and Breakdown knowing what she now knew about them. Who had known this about the two mechs? Had everyone but her? Had Bulkhead known? He had been Breakdown’s rival, after all.

“So Breakdown, huh?” she said, breaking the brief silence. Knock Out gave her a curious glance as she continued. “Did Bulkhead know he liked mechs?” She stifled a chuckle, “If he was a construction bot like Bulkhead, then he must have been into femmes too?”

The reaction she received from Knock Out was not one she had expected at all. She wasn’t sure what she thought he would say next, but she was absolutely taken aback when he whipped around and took one intimidating step towards her. Leaning into her, Arcee instinctively began to raise her crossed arms as if to whip out her blades in defense.

“ _Breakdown_ liked mechs,” Knock Out hissed and he thrust a digit at himself. His red optics seemed to radiate a hatred that was not directed at Arcee. “I am _more_ than satisfying than _any_ mech _or_ femme. Do you know how many bots _desire_ me? Breakdown knew how _lucky_ he was to have me to himself.” 

It dawned on Arcee that Knock Out’s response had very little to do what she had just asked but clearly she had touched on a personal topic. Still, she couldn’t curb some of her curiosity. Her sires had always told her that curiosity was not fitting for her, but then she had never listened to either of them in her pre-war days.

Arcee leaned forwards, trying to catch Knock Out’s optics who had suddenly found a fierce interest in the beeping light on the handheld that had not changed in the past joor. “What about that reputation of yours as a flirt?" she asked.

A self-important grin faded onto Knock Out’s faceplate. “What about it?” 

“He was okay with that?” Arcee pressed.

“Of course. He knew it was _nothing_ ,” he replied arrogantly.

But Arcee didn’t relent. “So what about when you flirt with me? Oh, don't think I'm not approaching that topic." She watched with aggravation as he chuckled to himself. "That’s nothing too, right?" 

He shook his helm, obviously amused. “Do you not notice that I flirt with _every_ bot? It’s _fun_.”

“So let's just lay this out there," Arcee gave him a critical look. "You’re not attracted to me? At all?”

“I’ll say this bluntly: you don’t have the right appendage to ignite my circuitry,” he replied smoothly. “I hope I wasn’t leading you on in any way.” Knock Out didn’t sound the least bit sorry.

Arcee looked at him thoughtfully. _Only_ mechs? How different that was from the world where she had been brought up where femmes had been such a ‘hot commodity’. She couldn't help but know, “Have you ever been with a femme?”

“Are you offering?” he countered back.

“ _No!_ ” Arcee was aghast. “Now that we're both aware that you're not interested in me and I'm not interested in you, you can cut the flirting out.”

Smirking, Knock Out raised a single brow. “Not interested in me? Yet somehow, you’re here with me.”

“Oh, so is that what you think?” she retorted dryly. 

He laughed and said more seriously, “Not every mech is seeking a high caste lady in hopes to reach higher status in society, dear. I did that on my own, through my own merits.”

“What kind of merits are we talking about?” she asked, voice dripping with disbelief.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Knock Out admonished. “Being a medical practitioner makes you more welcome in higher circles. That and removing ones seeker wings helps.”

“Well," she continued, "if you haven’t been with a femme, how do you know you’re not into them?”

Knock Out stifled another laugh. He bounced his helm back and forth in mockery. “How do you know you’re not into femmes?”

Arcee huffed in frustration. “Where I came from, we were pressured from early adult transformation to pair with a mech. When your sires are in the same circle as the Waves, owning sparklings is a top priority and having a femme be one of the code suppliers? Even better.”

“Ah, yes, every mech wants a 'Spark of Solus Prime' for status, don't they?" Knock Out lamented sarcastically. "So you were paired with a mech?” he asked, interest creeping in his vocaliser.

“I was," Arcee admitted. "But it, uh, it didn’t last. Thankfully.”

Knock Out looked like he was thinking that over. “Not Tailskate then?”

“No.”

“How about that Cliffbumper?” he prodded. "That Mirage fellow you mentioned?"

“Tail _gate_ and Cliff _jumper!_ And no, none of them.” Arcee waved a servo and the two began to walk in pace again. “It doesn’t matter. That was a _long_ time ago. So if you’re _strictly_ into mechs, you’re on a planet with five of them. Any of them your type?”

Knock Out regarded her through the corner of his optics. “No. I said I like mechs, not ‘I like any living mech’. Believe me, Arcee, there _is_ a difference. I ask you the same question, are you attracted to anyone left?”

Arcee quickly calculated a tally of who exactly there was to chose from and she couldn’t imagine herself with any of them in the way that Knock Out was suggesting. Finding a new ‘partner’ was not in Arcee’s frame of mind. Not only was it not a priority, but she didn’t find herself missing it. It was such a comparison to her past self, or the reputation her sires thought she had with mechs. Only because she was with someone they didn’t like, but in actual fact, Arcee never felt compelled to be in a relationship. Instead, her past lovers had all been accidental, she had never sought a pairing. Both of her lovers lives had been cut short and Arcee mourned them fiercely, but found she was content with the idea of being single.

“No,” she said. “They’re all like my family. I really can’t think of any of them in that way.”

“Ah, yes, June Darby said something about you Autobots all being a family or something,” Knock Out said, waving a dismissive servo. "Wasn't sure if she was insinuating you were all into each other or-" Arcee jabbed him in the side real hard for that tease. "Okay," he chided, "None of them? Not best friend 'Bee or... Smokescreen?"

"Definitely not," Arcee replied. "Bee is more like a spark-brother. Smokescreen... is too young and too unfocused." Just the idea of being around Smokescreen made her feel like an exhausted caretaker. "How about you?" she asked. "Bumblebee? Smokescreen? Bulkhead?"

“No," he sneered, "I don’t see myself becoming close acquaintances with Breakdown’s lifelong enemy. Bumblebee is far too young and naive and Smokescreen is… not compatible. Absolutely not. Besides,” he said with more confidence, "I prefer larger mechs. There’s something about an impressionable frame that I can’t resist.”

“Impressionable frame?”

Knock Out winked at Arcee. “Big bots.”

“You like big framed mechs?”

“You could word it that way,” he grinned.

Arcee contemplated what he meant by that but before she could figure it out, she heard him give a small laugh.

“You can’t possibly tell me you never ran into other 'partners' through all these years?” he asked, amused. “You must’ve been surrounded by them during the war.”

“What can I tell you,” she said. “I guess I always figured partner meant the same thing I thought it did. There wasn’t much time for PDA during the war. Not on our side of the war, anyway.”

“You obviously didn’t try hard enough," Knock Out returned airily.

“Or we took the war seriously and used our time wisely,” she pointed out.

He stifled a small laugh. “So you’re telling me you never interfaced with Cliffstumper?”

A heated tinge exploded onto Arcee’s faceplate. “Knock Out!”

“What! What’d I say?” he feigned bewildered.

“You can’t just ask me that!” she cried out.

Knock Out shot her an incredulous look. “Why in Primus not? Are you embarrassed about being asked? Or embarrassed you’ve never interfaced at all?”

“Cut that out!" she ordered. Then she hesitated, "I mean, of course. I mean—”

“Can’t imagine why anyone would want to,” Knock Out muttered and he felt a light punch to his side. He said louder, “But with Cliffbumper?” The heated flush that returned to Arcee’s faceplate answered his question. “That’s adorable.”

“It’s not adorable," Arcee retorted. "It’s personal.”

“I can envision it now!” And Knock Out brandished his arms in a mock grandiose gesture. “It was both of your first times! You were shy but curious and he was just so eager to please but didn’t want to tell you he was new to this too! The two of you were alone- the only witness the moon shining through a picturesque window in one of your grand estates! The two of you probably thought it lasted all night long but, really, in all seriousness, we both know first times don’t last that long at-”

He felt another jab to his side, this one sharper than before.

“None of that is true!” Arcee insisted fiercely.

“Then answer me this,” a sassy grin crossed Knock Out's faceplate. “Was Cliffy your sparkmate?”

Arcee stopped walking. Her expression fell and she raised her arms to hold herself defensively. Her optics began to quiver and reflect memories of the past. Those short-lived, but oh so worth it, memories of her time with one of the few bots that had ever made such an impression on Arcee. This whole time she had been concerned with memories of Tailgate, and of her human friend, Jack. However, when Arcee had stepped outside for her little drive during which Ratchet was removing the lock on Knock Out’s saws, her mind had gone to one place, to one bot.

Arcee had driven hard, she had driven swiftly, all the way to the Autobot’s original Earth base, or what remained of it. Once there, she had scoured the ruins of rock for any sign of Cliffjumper’s broken horn. She hadn’t found it. It wasn’t that she needed it though, but a small part of Arcee felt destroyed that she hadn’t kept it- a little something to remember her lover by. But then what good would it do her? It would just keep her in the past, wouldn’t it? Yet the past was all she had, and admittedly, there were days when all she wanted to do was bury herself in the past. Memories were all she had.

“I said something, didn’t I?” She heard Knock Out take a closer step towards her. She still couldn’t bring herself to look up, Arcee was far too haunted by the past to move. “What was it like? Is it over?”

Arcee stirred, lowering her defensive stance. “What are you talking about?” she asked, completely confused.

“The sparkrift. When Cliffjumper died. What did it feel like?”

She was chilled by the intense burning in Knock Out’s optics. He stood his distance but he leaned towards her, as if the next thing she might say would be required for functioning. His intensity was hungry, not a fervor for her, but a thirst for knowledge. A desire to want what he did not have.

“I don’t know.” She said, “I never had a sparkmate.”

There was a brief flash of anger in Knock Out, Arcee noticed it distinctly. But he masked it quickly with an air of cold indifference. It didn’t fool her.

“Did _you_ have a sparkmate?” she asked. Was he of the same mind of her? A regret of what they should have done?

Knock Out was watching Arcee with determination. His optics scrutinising her, looking for some sort of answer for what, she did not know. She realised the most Arcee had ever come to know of Knock Out had been from this very walk and talk as well as from when she had snooped through his room- although that had raised more questions than answers. This bot was a private one, a guarded one. One who did not openly share information, but instead answered Arcee with more riddles, and counter questions to avoid providing information. But wasn't she the same? It was clear through this chat, he did not trust her. But to be fair, did she trust him? 

Yet even so, he then astounded her by finally saying,

“Breakdown _was_ my sparkmate.”

Arcee vented in surprise. Yes, Knock Out and Breakdown being… _partners_ had taken her by surprise but even at that point, her mind never went as far as to consider them sparkmates. As she continued to dwell on this, she realised it wasn’t just the idea of Knock Out having a sparkmate that bewildered her, it was that any _Decepticon_ could have a sparkmate that she really found difficulty accepting. Never, in all her years, had this thought ever occurred to her. Because, surely, to Arcee, Decepticons were not capable of such emotions. They were the enemy, they were evil. No, they were against emotions like… such as…

Arcee looked at Knock Out curiously. “You were in love too?”

Knock Out stood firmly, but it was in such a way that Arcee could see he was a precariously built tower almost ready to topple but fighting it with everything he had. He looked at her in such a way that said nothing, a way that said ‘frag off’ but also in a way that betrayed his outward stance. What Arcee saw was the same emotion that she knew Knock Out had seen in her when he had asked her about Cliffjumper. It was pain.

“If you had a sparkmate,” Arcee continued softly, “and you lost him, then why are you asking me what the sparkrift felt like? What did yours feel like?”

A strain of torment crossed his faceplate and he turned away from her. Knock Out tapped his chassis as if it was suddenly going to respond with the answer. Eventually, he said, “Not what I had thought it would.”

“At least you sparkmerged with your… partner. Cliffjumper and I… well I don’t have him at all. I don’t even have him in here,” and she raised both servos to cover her own chassis. “At least you do.”

“And tell me what good is that?” Knock Out returned, bitterness almost attacking her. “Why would you want the torture of a sparkrift? Have you ever seen a bot go mad from losing a sparkmate? Because I have.”

“You don’t seem crazy to me,” she said faintly.

Knock Out shut his optics and his legs buckled slightly. He opened his optics again. “How do you know? You know nothing about me.”

“Do you _feel_ crazy?” Arcee asked.

“I don’t know what I feel." His vocaliser was stern. "But you don’t want this.”

Arcee clung to herself tighter and didn’t look away. “But I do.” He looked at her with a mingle of doubtfulness and pity. “I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“Neither do I,” Knock Out’s voice was barely audible.

Arcee stared at him. “Then if we feel the same, what’s the point of a sparkmerge?”

“There is no point,” he insisted, continuing to stride forwards. Arcee trailed after him. “Either way, we both ended up alone. It’s a joke. You don’t, and you wish you did- you sparkmerge and sooner or later, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

A deep perturbing feeling rushed through Arcee’s frame. Did Knock Out really mean he regretted sparkmerging? Did that mean he regretted Breakdown too? Even if her time with Cliffjumper had been cut short, even if they had never taken it to that intimate level of combining their sparks and _even if_ she still laid awake before powering down, haunted by longing memories for her _partner_ , she would never regret Cliffjumper. Or anyone she lost for that matter. That’s what was so important about life to Arcee, it keep moving on. Because she would meet bots- and people- that would touch her and she would hold them inside her forever. Cliffjumper himself had taught her that when she had shut herself off from everyone after Tailgate's death.

But Knock Out proclaimed loneliness to trump any connection he ever had, including a sparkmate. Was that Knock Out speaking? Or the insanity of a sparkrift, she wondered.

“Well,” she finally spoke after it was clear Knock Out had again retreated into himself. “Killing Airachnid is going to help me,” she said with assurance, “think of that.”

“Oh,” Knock Out replied, giving her a deadly look that unnerved her, “I’ve been thinking about it since the day I found out what she did. I plan to make her suffer, Arcee. Breakdown and I… we went through so much scrap during the war, and we were this close!” He held up a sliver of space between his digits. “ _This close_ to making it out alive!” Rage seemed to overcome him and all the red bio-lights on his frame intensified including those of his optics. “Maybe then,” he hissed, “Maybe then…” But he faltered and came to a stop.

Arcee stood next to him, allowing for a polite distance between. She could read from his stance that he was battling to keep down the anger, something she had often fought with herself.

“Maybe then I’ll finally get a good night’s power down,” he said almost too casually. She had been expecting something a little more introspective and climatic than that. But then perhaps it was. She recalled all the empty hi-grade energon bottles in his room. 

“Maybe I’ll travel.” Knock Out looked at her with curiosity when she spoke. Arcee struggled to remember her former self before the war. “I was interested in far off places,” she reflected. “A... pair of friends really inspired me, especially of tales of Earth. Before the war, I had always wanted to see the planet. Who knew what an impact it was going to be on my life- on our planet’s history even. But another part of me doesn’t want to leave my… family.” 

Knock Out's expression was unreadable. “What a quaint sentiment.” His anger had subsided and they were walking once again. 

“No friends?” Arcee pried.

“Decepticons don’t have friends,” he winked. Then the playful tone was gone, “No, I can’t seem to share your outlook on your little troupe. I can’t leave Autobot central, but staying...” Knock Out paused, he was taking his time to respond. “I suppose you could say, I’ve lost a lot in a short amount of time. And only recently am I being forced to remember just _how much_ I’ve lost. I’m tired of it but now it’s there, every day.”

Arcee was completely confused. “How so?”

“If you don’t mind, my dear," he said, still looking forward. "There are some things I’m just not ready to talk about.”

Arcee met Knock Out’s optics and held them. “Look, I know you hate it when bots bring up the whole ‘trust’ thing, but I wish you’d trust _me_ and not feel like you only have to give me bits and piece of information. Maybe we can help each other.”

“Funny you should say that,” Knock Out said, “Ratchet said something quite similar about the two of us.”

“Augh, I hope he doesn’t think we’re going to be an item,” Arcee blanched at the thought.

Surprised, she heard Knock Out chuckle. “Something tells me Ratchet is aware of the nature of my ‘partnership’ with Breakdown.”

“Okay, okay,” she stifled a laugh. “So I need to update my dictionary a little. Maybe you could help me with that.”

“That would not only be a pleasure, but pure entertainment as well,” he replied smugly.

Before Arcee could say anything else, an electronic beeping sound alarmed from Knock Out’s handheld. Together they peered at the device.

“She’s supposed to be somewhere just beyond there,” Knock Out mumbled.

Arcee looked from the handheld to ‘there’. There, just near the horizon, Arcee could see rows of rock jutting barbarically out of the ground in what looked like a cruel, mountainous fence. “Maybe if we climb that we’ll see something.

As she spoke, Knock Out clicked on the device one more time before stashing it away. “It’s now or never, sweetspark. Let’s go!”

He started off at a run but Arcee sped past him with her light speed. Leaving Knock Out behind, she aimed for the edge of the nearing sharp rocks jutting from the ground. Reaching them, she leapt into the air with her agility and pounced from one precipice to another climbing ever higher.

“Hey! Watch the finish!” she could hear Knock Out’s voice from below as rocks she kicked up bounced off him. Clinging to an edge with one hand, she peered down below and watched as Knock Out struggled to climb less gracefully after her. Assured that he was keeping up with her at his own pace, Arcee continued her climb.

As dangerous as it was, she felt a rush of satisfaction from being able to run and jump this tyrannical obstacle course. She didn’t miss the war, but she missed being able to move. That’s what kept her going on those missions with Wheeljack, she knew he craved the same as she did.

Nearing the top, Arcee heaved herself onto a small plateau and stood at the very top of the wild precipice she had just conquered. Looking ahead, realised now why such a spire was built. At a loss for words, she vented a gasp; suddenly finding Airachnid and hunting her down felt lost in the gargantuan sight before her.

Knock Out dug his claws into the rock at Arcee’s pedes and hauled himself awkwardly next to her. Standing next to her and dusting himself off, he shared in the sight. He nodded to himself.

He spoke with the air of a bot who had just discovered a speck in his energon. “So it is Luna 2 that housed the old maximum security prison. Could have sworn it was Luna 1.”

Arcee turned to face him. “Maybe this is my old self speaking, but we really should have researched this before going on our exploration.”

 

**_(The Flashback. . . Before the War)_ **

“Watch the finish!” Knock Out hissed. Too little too late. With an agonised wince, he could feel the bars scrape against his shoulder as the officer purposely slammed him against the cell. Knock Out clenched his dentae in a brief moment of pain as his faceplate felt another impact.

“Get in there you disgusting _seeker_.” The officer forcefully shoved Knock Out into the cell, taking extra care to aim him towards the ground. Stumbling, Knock Out struggled to instinctively balance himself with his wings, instead they clanged helplessly against the metal cuffs encasing them. Unable to gain balance, he stumbled into the metal bench instead. Rage welled inside him when he heard more scratches cut into his red paint.

CLANG!

Looking up, Knock Out saw the officer slam his cell shut then return to his desk. Climbing to his pedes and, servos cuffed in front of him, Knock Out did a quick check of his cell and was relieved that he was the only bot in there this time. His frame feeling drained more from the party than from being roughed up by the officer, Knock Out tipped into the bench and rested the back of his helm against the wall.

A frustrated groan exuded from Knock Out. Didn’t these officers have anything better to do than crash campus parties? Of course, he had been the only one to actually be brought in to the station despite the clear usage of crystals and speeders by the other bots there. Knock Out wasn’t even under any kind of influence for Primus’ sake. But of course the police had picked on the only seeker there. Ever since he transformed from a newspark, Knock Out had learned very quickly that this kind of treatment towards seekers was to be expected. The embarrassment of it infuriated him. These wings caused him more trouble than they ever seemed to benefit.

“Another mangy seeker,” a disgusted voice came from the hallway. Inwardly, Knock Out scoffed at such a remark. It didn’t matter that he meticulously preened himself, that he had been all freshly waxed and buffed for the party. No matter what condition he was in, he’d always be that ‘mangy seeker’.

The voice grew closer and suddenly recognition dawned on Knock Out. “Tell me, Streetwise" the voice said, "what’s this one in for?” The figure rounded the corner and approached the officer at the desk.

 _Scrap_. Knock Out bit his lower mouthplate and looked away as if somehow this was going to make him invisible. Seriously, did it have to be _him?_ Couldn’t Knock Out just get another slap on the servo, a charge and release?

But whenever Prowl got involved, what should have been just a routine capture and release, would turn into an orn-long fiasco of technical torment. Prowl should have been too high and mighty to deal with a simple case of a seeker caught with some crystals. But maybe it was a slow day and Prowl was perhaps feeling particularly malicious? Whatever the case, once he decided you were his next target, you could guarantee it would be a long time until you saw the sky again. Just the sight of Prowl made Knock Out begin to feel the onset of claustrophobia. Even without looking at the police chief, he could feel those scrutinising optics on him. Knock Out's frame tingled with ridicule as he felt that long, slow judging sweep of being looked up and down. His wings twittered as he stewed, betraying his distress.

“Selling crystals at a school party,” Streetwise responded as if he was talking about the weather.

“I’ve dealt with that one before.” Knock Out saw Prowl’s mouthplate curl. “Don’t see many bright red seekers like that. I’m not surprised he’s back, seekers aren’t very intelligent. They never seem to learn.”

Knock Out felt his faceplate tinge with heat. He _loathed_ being talked about as if he wasn’t there. Oh, they knew he could hear them alright. But Knock Out was also aware that speaking up would only be foolish of himself. Unfortunately, he had learned the first time he had ever been brought into a police station that goading was a basic trick of the cops. One that lead to lots to dents and scratches on the victim. No, Knock Out had enough scuffs from the transport to the station alone.

“Get this though, some bot tried to speak for him,” Streetwise commented. “Said this seeker goes to the university there.”

Knock Out heard the unmistakable sound of Prowl snorting down what was going to be a mocking laugh.

“A seeker learning bot medicine, huh?” Prowl folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “I thought they had their own mumbo-jumbo medicine?” He chuckled, “At least we know how he’s paying for his schooling.”

“He had this on him.” Streetwise pulled out a little tin with the crushed crystal tins Knock Out had had on him at the party. Knock Out groaned, he should have just tossed it as soon as the cops had descended on the party.

Prowl leaned over and sneered with a shrug. “Looks like enough to charge him with a Rank 3.”

Rank 3! Knock Out felt himself bristle in indignation. He had already sold enough of the tins that night to get any sort of potential charge down to a trafficking Rank 7! What Prowl said was completely just making up on the spot to punish him for being a seeker. Absolute injustice, he thought, trembling with inner rage. If he had been any other bot with the same amount, he wouldn’t be charged _that_ high.

“The party had been going on for half a joor, plenty of time for him to have sold more,” Streetwise added thoughtfully.

Knock Out started doing the math in his processor. He tried to recall his previous offenses and started to panic internally that, with this new Rank 3 added to his list of charges, he might be dangerously close to enough charges to get kicked out of school.

Scandalised at the unfairness, Knock Out struggled with himself to continue his silence. No, he would not say anything, he would not allow himself to fall for this trap. Was Prowl just itching this badly to beat on a prisoner? Fidgeting in frustration, Knock Out’s claustrophobia intensified. Seekers didn’t do well in bars, and all the bot police knew that.

“You know what,” Prowl said after he paused for a moment’s thought. “Just do a Rank 5. I don’t have time to deal with this. Just tag him and let him go. I don’t need a stupid seeker getting in my way tonight.”

Both Streetwise and Knock Out perked. “Are you sure?” Streetwise asked cautiously. Then he looked shocked, “Oh scrap, it’s tonight, isn’t it?”

For the first time since he entered the room, something reminiscent of a smile appeared on Prowl’s faceplate. Although it was definitely more of a self-important smirk, Knock Out noted.

“At the Waves estate,” Prowl elaborated.

“Frag, that’s such an honour,” Streetwise mumbled in awe.

Knock Out tensed when he heard the mention of the Waves. Frag, indeed. Knock Out had always been intimidated by Prowl, more because of whenever he was around in one of Knock Out’s arrests, he left with more charges on his record than when he had been promised with when he walked into the station. But Knock Out had no idea Prowl was decorated enough to attend a party at the renowned Waves’. Knock Out cared very little for the Waves or what they did, it wasn’t a part of his seeker background, but even still, all bots knew of their influence and power when it came to the planet’s procreation.

“Well, they were impressed with my heir’s coding,” Prowl explained. Pride intensified in his voice and the cocky smile seemed to be replaced by a genuine one, if Knock Out could call anything about Prowl genuine. “And the match we have for her- his is impressive too. He’s a recent graduate from the academy- with honours.”

“With honours, huh?” Streetwise asked, “I remember you mentioning this from time to time. Seems like its been going on forever, but the deal is finally done?”

“ _Finally_. It’s been a lot of bargaining with his sires for groons, I’ll tell you that,” Prowl huffed. “You know I’ve been talking with them about it since before our heirs even met. My, um, 'conjux endura' and I have been looking for my heir’s future mate since she was a sparkling. Streetwise, I honestly feel like I can finally rest after tonight. As soon as they complete the ceremony, we’re going to start them on the sparkling applications.”

Streetwise chuckled and leaned back in his seat. “Because you’re going to need an application if the Waves are hosting their ceremony at their estate, am I right?”

The two bots laughed heartily. Only this time, they could not know how infuriating their laughter was to Knock Out. No, they were clearly far too wrapped in reveling in their status to care how impertinent they sounded. Knock Out refused to look at them. He may not be closely tied to seeker current events, but to listen to these high caste bots talk about just being _handed_ sparklings— not even needing to apply— while the amount the seekers were given from the government was dwindling, it was insulting. Even when Knock Out had been a fledgling, he had only shared a nest with eleven others. He still had memories of the elders shaking their heads in mourning the low count. Knock Out felt bitter being connected to such an underprivileged background. In this moment, he was aware of how painfully different he was from the bots laughing before him.

“So she’s finally stopped rebelling, huh?” Streetwise continued, “Every shift, you have a new rant about her.”

Prowl growled under his voice. “She tests me, that’s what she does. I need to drag her in here and show her low-life like _that_ one,” Prowl thrust a digit in Knock Out’s direction. “To make her wake up and stop hanging around those two seekers of hers. She calls them ‘scientists’,” he scoffed, “there’s no such thing as a seeker _scientist_. They’re all into that spiritual scrap. When I thought I was paying for my heir to get some education, I thought she’d be learning from _real_ scholars.”

“Don’t tell me they’re coming to the ceremony?” Knock Out fumed at how distressed Streetwise was over the idea of seekers attending one of their high caste parties.

“Not if I have something to say about it,” Prowl retorted. “I will _not_ be embarrassed in front of such important bots. She needs to start acting like my heir. If it’s not spending her free time with seekers, then it’s defying everything I am doing to set up her future by seeing that disrespectful boyfriend of hers.”

Streetwise shook his helm, stifling a laugh. “I thought you said you were going to do something about that mech?”

Prowl waved a casual servo. “In any case, everything will be solidified tonight. I don’t know why she’s complaining. Her new mate is quite... _robust_. He makes more than a few bots swoon- or so I’m told.”

Speaking of _robust_ , another officer knocked on the doorframe and leaned in. “This guy is here to get the seeker.” Instantly Knock Out sprang to his pedes at the sight of Breakdown ambling into the room.

Before Breakdown could say anything, Prowl spoke to Streetwise. “Do Rank 5, Rank 6 if you have to get the seeker out of here. I don’t need my station being dirtied up with young seekers who deal crystals.” (Knock Out winced when he noticed Breakdown shoot him a dirty look.) “I need to tie up some loose ends here and then it's time to meet up with my heir for her party. I believe my mate is preparing her now.” And with that, Prowl quickly took his exit.

Appearing a little bewildered, Breakdown approached Streetwise. “I’m, uh, I just paid up front to bail him out.”

Steetwise scanned Breakdown up and down. Knock Out knew he was trying to guess why a ground vehicle bot would want to bail out a seeker. But the mentioning of currency must have distracted him.

“Alright, just sign these here.” Reaching into his desk, Steetwise pulled out a datapad. He leaned forwards, handing it to Breakdown who looked a little confused. “He’s getting a Rank 6 on his record. He can request a copy of his total offenses up to date if he wants. Otherwise he should be aware of what’s against him when he’s arrested next time.”

In the middle of signing the datapad, Breakdown looked up at the ‘when he’s arrested next time’ comment but thankfully held his glossa. Not noticing the look, Streetwise headed over to Knock Out’s cell and unlocked the gate.

“I think you know I don’t have to tell you you’re not getting your ‘property’ back,” Streetwise commented as he undid the cuffs on Knock Out’s servos and wings.

“Well,” Knock Out spoke carefully as he inspected the scuffs around his servos from the cuffs. “You can consider it a parting gift, for all your hard work bringing in another seeker.”

“Watch it,” Streetwise glared at Knock Out. “You will be back, and you’re lucky it went as smooth as it did. You can thank the chief’s heir for that. If he wasn't attending a party in her honour, you'd be getting a higher rank on your record.”

“Oh yes, do send my regards to a fellow inmate,” Knock Out smiled falsely and turned to leave, Breakdown walking behind him to block Streetwise.

As the two left the station, Knock Out could feel the frustrated vibe from Breakdown. Knock Out had hoped that if Breakdown had found out about his arrest, that at least the reason for his arrest could have been kept a secret. His source of funding his medical education was a hot topic between them. A conversation that often ended in disagreeing sides. Judging by the silence of Breakdown even outside the station and continuing on to after transforming and traveling back home in their alt modes, Knock Out knew the conversation was going to happen again. No point in avoiding it.

“How did you know I was here?” Knock Out asked, keeping his voice low.

“Your school bud came and found me,” Breakdown replied. “Said he would have done it himself but his sire wouldn’t give him the shanix for it." Then he added, "Didn’t say why you were arrested though.”

That was because Knock Out had his bud well trained to not speak of Knock Out’s side business.

“You’re gonna get kicked outta school,” Breakdown said flatly.

Knock Out looked down at Breakdown traveling at a fast pace below him. There was nothing Knock Out could say that hadn’t been said before. He had attempted to explain that it was an unavoidable risk. How else would a seeker be able to afford a bot school? He hadn’t been the first, the larger, loner seekers had more success with being accepted - but the smaller type like him? Where else would he get the shanix? Breakdown had offered to pay what he could, but Knock Out refused.

That was the amazing thing about a bot like Breakdown, not only was he endlessly supportive of Knock Out, but he accepted him for who and what he was. Most vehicle bots wouldn’t be caught dead with a seeker. At least, not for longer than one night. Knock Out had plenty of experience with bots like _that_ , but never had he come across somebot like Breakdown. Breakdown, who treated this seeker with _respect_. 

Yes, he disapproved of Knock Out’s ways of affording medical school. Even though dealing crystals was stereotypically associated with seekers and perhaps Knock Out fit that stereotype, Breakdown never degraded him for it. Unlike the police bots or even the students who purchased from him. Breakdown was always accepting. Knock Out felt his spark do a little pulse of contentment when he thought of him. Sure, they had moved in together for awhile now, but Knock Out felt himself becoming more and more attached to the attractive bot. Looking down at Breakdown now, he marvelled at that big, blue frame. So sturdy, so hefty. Looks _and_ a caring nature, Knock Out thought. What a rare combination.

In that moment, his processor briefly went to the unknown heir of Prowl’s. The higher caste bots made life look easier, rolling in shanix, doing as they pleased and being waited on- it’s all that Knock Out could ever desire and yet as Prowl had been talking about his upcoming party, Knock Out had felt more and more turned off by such a lifestyle. Being paired with a bot you didn’t even know since you were a newspark? And Knock Out thought seekers had it rough for being pushed around by high caste. Apparently they did it to their own as well.

“Hey, Breakdown?” he called out over their comm-links.

There was a pause. “Yeah?”

“Thank-you, for bailing me out.”

Breakdown’s vocaliser was a low rumble. “’Course.”

Knock Out thought cautiously on what to say next. “We’re still good though, right?”

Breakdown pulled to the side of the road and idled. His reaction took Knock Out by surprised who had to backup after he realised Breakdown was no longer travelling underneath him on the ground. Knock Out hovered in the air. 

“We’re still good,” Breakdown said finally. “We’re always good, Knock Out. It's not that I don’t like what you’re doing, I just don’t want it to blow up in your face. I dunno, maybe I shouldn’t make such a thing of it. I don’t wanna chase you away.”

“That’s not something you need to worry about,” Knock Out replied, feeling relieved. “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

Knock Out smiled to himself when he heard Breakdown chuckle. “Funny, that’s what Bulkhead always says…”

“A seeker and a construction bot, yes,” Knock Out playfully mocked. “It does sound like the beginning to a bad joke, doesn’t it? But in all seriousness, my sweet, I feel privileged to choose my own partner and fortunate enough to have found you.”

Breakdown began to pull back onto the road and Knock Out trailed after him. “Partner, huh?” Breakdown said.

“Well,” Knock Out replied, “whichever word you prefer for two bots who live together and frag around.”

He could almost envision Breakdown’s smirk as he said, “I like ‘partner’.”

“As do I.” Knock Out didn’t care for this unknown heir or Prowl’s, but he couldn’t help but see the similarities between them. He hoped she gave Prowl one hell of a time at the party tonight. Bots like that rebellious femme heir, Knock Out thought, they deserved happiness on their own terms, just as he did.


	5. Reservoir |&| virgin road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcee and Knock Out have encountered an unexpected twist to their hunt. Will they be able to work together to locate Airachnid? She might not be the only thing lurking in the shadows either...

“Yes, well,” Knock Out replied. Arcee could hear him struggle to sound reassuring. “It’s not like there’s going to be any felons in there. It was raided during the war. Just look at it, it’s only a shell of a building, nothing more.”

Arcee scanned the decaying building before her. It was absolutely endless in size, five floors tall but spread out as far as the optic could see. Just gazing at the labyrinth-like architecture was utterly daunting. The decrepit condition enhanced the horror it invoked within Arcee, rousing chilling visions of its shady past. Somehow, with the building crumbled and the roof and walls blown open, it still could not have been as terrifying as it had probably been during the prime of its operation. Any bot being dragged to this house of nightmares would know by its exterior that it was a prison unlike any other. Almost alive in its grandeur, it looked eager to swallow a bot whole, never to surrender its prisoners. Those that had escaped during a raid, no matter how far they ran, would never elude the memories of the place- of what true terror happened inside those walls. Only the victims and the torture house itself would ever know the truth.

“Let’s venture in, shall we?” Knock Out continued. He looked down, gauging how to make his way down the other side of the cliff they had just climbed. Thankfully, this side sloped, making for an easy travel to the prison that eagerly awaited them.

Arcee wanted to argue, she really did. She could feel a tingle travel through her struts. She wasn’t sure why this empty husk of a building had such an effect on her. Fear wasn’t something Arcee experienced often, but everything inside her instinctively begged her to leave. But even fear would not be able to change her decision. The only thing that awaited them on the inside was Airachnid. That at least, was familiar to her. She looked to Knock Out who was carefully making his way down the slope. Together, they would succeed.

Following him, they approached the gates to the prison. Twice the size of Ultra Magnus, Arcee noted how the gates had been chained, but were now blown apart and mangled into a twisted shape. She read the Cybertronian engraved at the top, _Garrus One_.

“I think now’s a good time to prepare ourselves,” Arcee commented. She transformed her arms into her twin guns. “Do you have any ranged weapons?”

Knock Out shook his helm, “Only my saws and drill- both are built in. But I did manage to find this—” and he pulled out what looked like a small stick which he expanded into a long rod taller than himself. “My old energon prod,” he explained.

“How did you get that?” Arcee balked. “I thought Bumblebee locked everything away?”

“To be honest, I forgot I still had it. I guess I had accidentally stashed it away with, uh, some of my ‘medical devices’,” he chuckled, although Arcee had no idea why. “I suppose that’s why it was overlooked.”

“Well, if I had known you didn’t have any ranged weapons, I would have grabbed you something,” she said, walking past him.

She wasn't able to see his expression as he replied, “How considerate of you."

Walking up the steps to the prison doors, she approached the engraving and examined it. “It’s old Cybertronian,” Arcee commented. She ran her digits into the carvings and despite how they appeared to be written with flourish, she realised by the placement of them that they weren’t intended to be a part of the prison’s design. “Don’t suppose you know ancient Cybertronian?”

“Haven’t the faintest,” Knock Out said, shrugging. “Although my guess is something along the lines of ‘beware’ or possibly ‘go no further’. You know, the usual,” and he winked playfully.

Arcee, on the other hand, didn’t seem to share his comical nature. “It doesn’t make sense to me. To write ‘beware’ if there’s no-one inside anymore?”

“Oh, we don’t know that. It could have been carved when there were still inmates for all we know.” Knock Out pushed on the doors, throwing his weight against them. “I wouldn’t worry about old graffiti, honestly.”

Slowly, the doors began to groan against the age of dirt and dust that had collected around it over the years. Lending her aid, Arcee pushed and together they revealed their first glimpse of the hall entrance on the inside.

Tiled floors and cement walls had been the clear victim of heavy machinery during the raid. The whole room was peppered in bullet holes and sprayed with dried energon. It was so intense in fact that it had almost become a grisly whimsical pattern on everything, including the front counter. From the entrance, Arcee peered down the long stretch of hall before them. Intensifying the light from her optics, she created a beam of light to slice through the pure black that waited patiently to swallow them.

Knock Out did the same with his red optics, but added additional light from his headlights on his chassis. Cautiously striding forwards, Arcee watched as he approached the front desk. He leaned over the counter and made a grimacing expression.

“What is it?” Arcee asked, approaching him.

“I guess we’re not entirely alone,” he replied, his vocaliser strained. “We have some company. Sort of.”

Arcee mimicked his expression when she saw what he had been talking about. The dead frames of four bots laid behind the counter. They had clearly been dead for vorns. But still, Arcee wondered why no-one had returned for them. The sad thought Arcee considered, was that these bots had not looked like fighters, they had no weapons drawn and, perhaps it was her imagination, but they looked to be in self-protective poses.

“Pleasant, isn’t it?” Knock Out spoke aloud, almost as if he could read Arcee’s thoughts. “As an interesting piece of history that this place is,” he said, starting to head towards the darkened hall, “I’d rather skip the tour and head straight to business.”

Following after him, she matched his pace, standing as close to him as she could. Senses heightened in the dark, her eyes darted quickly from one side of the hall to the other in a constant sweep. Occasionally, she glanced over her shoulder for an added check.

It had been awhile since she had been in a life-threatening situation like this. A few orns had gone by since the final battle at the well, but even still, all her training was flooding back as if it was instinct. As she considered that, Arcee reminded herself that she had lived more of her life in war than she had in her life before- a pampered high caste femme being paired off and rushed into sparkling ownership for the sake of status for her sires.

So was that who Arcee was? The _real_ Arcee? Was the real Arcee the one that had existed the longest? If that was the case, then that would be someone who could only function in a war environment. Surely, that wasn’t her. Arcee didn’t _want_ to be that bot. But here she was now, all of her instincts to fight, tensed and ready to kill before she was killed. This environment, she thought, it was almost relaxing for her.

Primus, no that couldn't be the right description. No, it wasn’t a soothing environment at all. That was a horrible thing to say, she was aware of that. It was that it was familiar. Right now in her life, so much was unfamiliar, including herself. Arcee didn’t know who she was anymore.

She would lay in her berth, alone, her processor alight with these thoughts. Somehow, she would fall into power down and only in this state was she finally relieved of the weighted introspections that clung to her every day. But once she awoke, they would pounce on her, waiting for her, stalking her obsessively since 'the war ended'. These thoughts still asked her, ‘ _who are you?_ ’ Then more mockingly, ‘ _do you even know?_ ’

She may not know. But she was certain of who she didn’t want to be and that was _this_ — the way she stalked the hallway, poised, weapons at the ready. That wasn't why she had worked so hard, was it? She survived the war to ensure a new generation of sparklings could transform into a world where they didn’t have to live the way she did. For them not to constantly live a life of a soldier in peril physically and mentally. That's what it had all been for, that was the reward. She had endured those millions of years, contributed to winning the war and finally it was real.

Yet, here Arcee was. Seeking conflict, seeking a kill, alight with instinct to fight as if it was her function for living. Was she even able to choose to be somebot else? The answer, she promised herself, was just around the corner. After Airachnid was dead, then finally Arcee would know who she was. Perhaps, she would even be able to choose who she _wanted_ to be.

“According to my handheld, we've got a ways to go,” Knock Out commented, looking down at his device. “Unfortunately, it’s not going to be very accurate at this point.”

“Then I say we hustle down this hall until we’re at least a little closer to the red dot, then proceed with caution,” Arcee said. “Besides, it’s clear now the only company we have are these dead bots.”

At a light run, the two bots dashed down the hall. Only when her shoulder grazed Knock Out's arm, did Arcee think to cast a glance up at him. His expression a description of focused concentration. Apprehension too, she was sure.

Not even a few orns ago this bot next to her been a bot loyal to the Decepticon cause. If they had been this close just a few orns ago, they would have been trying to kill one another. But now, running next to each other in the dark, alone, on Luna 2, they had agreed to rely on one other, both of them now sharing the same goal. Arcee had never considered the thought that she could ever share the same goal as a Decepticon. Even with the new Autobrand on his chassis, she only had to look into those blazing red optics to remind herself he had spent his millions of years on the other side.

And that's why she couldn't trust him. Even if they were working together presently, she knew that his first decision would always be a Decepticon decision. Wasn't this whole plan, after all, a very Decepticon thing to do? Arcee buried the thought but she couldn't hide why she had wrestled with the decision to come. But even as she fought internally on what to do after she had turned down his offer, she recalled there had been that voice inside her since the beginning, that small voice, that was all too eager to agree with him. The only way Arcee had convinced herself that going after Airachnid was justifiable was to tell herself it was an Autobot thing to do.

Airachnid deserved this. It was like Ultra Magnus had said, it was bringing her to justice. It was as simple as that. No need to over think it, or to somehow even consider that she was doing anything the least bit like a Decepticon. Even Optimus would agree that Airachnid was too close to their base and would eventually pose a threat. Arcee was only thinking ahead.

“I can’t believe she’s so close,” Arcee broke the silence between them. They pressed on down the hall. “But I'm thinking, she's going to probably know the layout of this prison better than we do. And with it so dark, she's going to have the upper servo. How long do you estimate she’s been here?”

Knock Out cast her an uneasy look. “I noticed her prison empty around the time… well, I suppose it was during that little mishap with the synthetic energon. That would have been just a few orns before the return of Cybertron.”

“What happened with the synthetic energon?” Arcee questioned. “Ratchet also had, um, an incident with the synthetic energon.”

Was that a grimace she saw on Knock Out’s faceplate. “It’s really not worth going into,” he said. “Let’s just say the fusing of synthetic and dark energon wasn’t the brightest of Starscream’s ideas.”

“Dark energon!” Arcee scowled at him. She recalled when Ratchet had used the synthetic energon and how it had enhanced his abilities as a warrior. Speed, strength, all of it heightened and combined to make Ratchet an unstoppable killing machine. Unfortunately, it had also clouded his decision-making skills when he had assumed he could go after Megatron and win a fight with the skilled gladiator warlord. But what would have happened to Ratchet had he combined the green liquid with the eerie purple energon? “It may not be worth going into,” Arcee spoke, “but I’m curious, what did Starscream think would happen in combining the two?”

Knock Out shrugged nonchalantly, “Who cares,” was his unsatisfying answer. “It cost me having Megatron seize all my research. All of it went to Shockwave. And for Starscream, well, another pounding from Megatron.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, at least for Arcee. It seemed to go right over Knock Out’s helm.

“How do you know?” she asked.

Knock Out cast her a quick glance. “Huh?”

She looked to the side, feeling troubled. “How do you know he got a pounding from—”

But he cut her off. “Because he ends up in my medbay the next day, that’s why.”

Another moment of silence. Arcee looked up at Knock Out warily wondering if she should even dare ask. Slowly, the dots were beginning to connect in her processor. “And by pounding you mean…”

“Yes.”

She felt her frame shake uncomfortably from the sudden dark turn of the conversation. “Should you really be telling me this? Isn’t there something to be said for patient-doctor confidentiality?”

“Ha!” and Arcee was taken aback by Knock Out’s blunt and crude laugh. “Confidentiality? Really! Everyone on the ship knew what was going on and not because of me. I heard it through the gossip before I ever found out medically. You Autobots must have heard the rumours too, no?”

Arcee looked away and took a moment to respond. “I guess I don’t understand why he would put up with that.”

Knock Out looked down at her and regarded her with what looked like a very severe expression. She was unsure by what he was thinking behind that look. It made her feel uneasy and, again, naive which she was confident she was anything but.

Yet based on their all-too recent conversations as they had traveled to this facility, Arcee was made aware by Knock Out that she was more sheltered than she considered herself. Whatever he thought in regards to Arcee's comment, and clearly he had more knowledge on that subject that much she could gauge from his expression, he instead looked away. 

“Who knows with ‘Screamer, right?” Knock Out replied finally. "All those modifications he’s had cosmetically, that says enough for me." He paused and added, "Sure, pain can be fun but there’s something to be said for a safe word that doesn’t waste your next orn in a hospital berth, right?”

The comment sounded as if it could have lightened the mood, but the way Knock Out had said it felt like it was intended to be serious. Either way, Arcee frowned upon realising he had just opened up some more about his personal tastes. “Knock Out, that’s really too much information for me…”

He cackled deviously at her baleful look. “You’re just precious, Arcee.” Then he added sarcastically, “You and Clifflumper sound like you must’ve been real scandalous in the berth. Not much for trying new things, huh?”

“Cliff _jumper_!!”

But he only continued to laugh as an embarrassed tinge flushed her faceplate. She was about to continue a retort when her audio receptors began to pick up a sound that wasn’t coming from either of them. Pausing, she strained to focus on identifying the sound. It was persistent but she couldn't quite place her digit on what it could be.

“Do you hear that?” she asked, her vocaliser dropping into a whisper. Certainly, it was too soon to be Airachnid. Besides, it wasn't a sound she had ever associated with her and yet...

Stopping his laughter to listen, Knock Out turned his helm, his eyes scanning the dark. “It’s… a humming,” he said. He exchanged a pressing look with her. He was thinking the same as she. Withdrawing his handheld, he nodded with confidence, "Can't be Airachnid. We're not close enough."

“Whatever it is,” Arcee said, raising her weapons again, "I think it's getting louder... we must be nearing it.”

It was true, the faint humming was beginning to increase in volume with every step they took. She noticed Knock Out hoist the handheld to his hip as he now gripped his energon prod with both servos. Hopefully the source of the sound wasn't going to require the use of their weapons. Because if they did, that meant they were not as alone in the building as they should have been.

“What's that up ahead?” Knock Out murmured after catching a glimpse of something highlight in the dark.

As they approached, the light from their optics revealed a worn down, broken gate. Much like the one outside the security facility, this one was also blown open, mangled and destroyed. One door had actually fallen completely off its hinges with rubble piled on top of it. Whatever these gates were supposed to have been barring, it looked like it had long since given up.

“Why is there a gate in the middle of the facility?” Knock Out asked aloud.

Arcee shone her optics to a sign above the gates. “ 'Inmate Ward'” she read. Another shared look was exchanged. But forcing herself to remember that the only danger within the whole facility was Airachnid herself, she found her confidence again and lead the way as they stepped over the bars of the broken gate.

The humming now intensified and Arcee fiercely wished she could at least identify the sound so that she could be prepared to face it. By how loud it was, they had to be happening onto the source of the sound at any moment. It didn’t remind her of any computer that she could think of, nor any machine. Yet, it was so familiar at the same time, she was utterly confused. Was it really possible she had heard this sound before. But _when?_

“I feel like I’ve heard that sound before,” Knock Out commented, voicing Arcee’s thoughts. “Whatever it is, it sounds like it’s coming from in there.” And he pointed a digit straight ahead, beyond an open entrance to another room.

Arcee pushed forwards, taking the lead. “Be ready just in case.” She heard the electricity crackle as Knock Out switched on his energon prod. Padding softly ahead, Arcee poised herself as they entered the large room ahead.

Doing a full sweep of the entire room with her optics, she realised they had entered a hall of some kind. There were benches in rows, some had been turned over, some splattered with dried energon. She squinted with repulsion when she noticed the few empty bodies strewn across the room.

“It’s a mess hall,” Knock Out said quietly. She looked up as he stood next to her. His headlights cut through the darkness, the light stronger than the light from her own optics. “But I can’t figure out where that sound is coming from.”

The sound, in fact, was so loud now that there was no way the source couldn’t be in the room. Somehow, it was everywhere but clearly nowhere at the same time. She could feel it all around.

“I don’t understand, we should be right on top of it,” Arcee murmured with confusion. She circled in her spot, trying to focus on any kind of movement that may be hiding in the shadows, but the mess hall was desolate and deserted as every other part of the building they had been in.

Without warning, Knock Out shut off his headlights and dimmed the light emanating from his optics to the normal level. Startled at his actions, Arcee whipped her helm around to question him. But before she could speak, his voice trailed nervously through the dark. “Or… on _top_ of _us._ ”

“What are you talking about?” she whispered back urgently.

From the light of her optics, she looked at him as he crouched down looking back at her with apprehension. He placed a single digit to his mouthplate, a desperate signal for her to keep quiet. About to ask him what for, she watched in horror as he pointed up and witnessed what he had seen.

As soon as she had gasped, she lowered the brightness from her optics as Knock Out had. For what she had seen had absolutely been the source of the loud humming.

And that source had been something neither of them had been planning on finding on their two-bot excursion. Because now they would need an entire army to face what clung to the ceiling, creating that all-too familiar sound.

Of course, now she knew where she had heard that sound before. She had heard it when she had crawled down a dark hole and stumbled across an entire cave full of what was right above their very helms. Although currently powered down, the sound coming from their joined venting as they slept, the _insecticons_ would not be powered down forever.

“Ah,” Knock Out gave a small nervous laugh. “So this is where they all went. You know, I never knew where we lost all those insecticons to…”

Absolutely shocked beyond words, Arcee ducked down and scuttled as quickly as she could towards the hallway where they had come from, urgently gesturing for Knock Out to follow. He didn’t need the invite, he was already on his way out. Carefully, they walked over cascaded limbs and strewn bodies, broken pieces of benches and who knows what else on the floor. Careful not to create any more sound than they already had, Arcee only allowed herself to vent a breath once they had escaped the room and rounded the corner. The two bots slumped onto the ground in shock.

“ _Insecticons??_ ” Arcee hissed, still struggling to keep her voice low. “Insecticons, Knock Out! We’re greatly outnumbered, how are we supposed to take on that many insecticons!?”

_Naturally_ , it wasn’t going to be this easy. It never was with Airachnid, was it? Of course she had to have the upper servo somehow. She had been here on Luna 2, not all by herself, but ruling a small empire of insecticons. All of them, ready to heed their Queen’s bidding and all of them far stronger, far larger than either herself or Knock Out. It’s not that Arcee felt she couldn’t take one on, she had before. But she wasn’t foolish either, she knew they were covered in a superior armor that meant they could take a beating before a fight with one of them could be considered fair. And with this many of them? No, they didn’t stand a chance, or… or did they… Arcee contemplated the items she had brought with her.

“Well, how was I supposed to know?” Knock Out snapped back, although he seemed more terrified than he did angry. “I only scanned for Airachnid, I couldn’t have guessed all the insecticons had ended up here. Frag, I don’t even know how she ended up here originally!” He didn’t appear to notice Arcee lost in her contemplation. “I propose we skip past them and at least find out where Airachnid is. What if they’re all in here and she’s getting her beauty sleep somewhere else alone? We’ll just slice off her head, dash back out and head home! That sounds feasible, doesn’t it?”

Too feasible to be real, Arcee cursed to herself. Much like the idea of walking onto the moon and killing Airachnid as easily as she had been daydreaming it would be. She couldn't believe she had been so... naive. Naive and gullible. Just because the war was won, didn't mean life was suddenly going to be easy, handing her what she wanted. She had been all too ready to believe Knock Out would somehow be the missing key she needed to killing Airachnid once and for all. 

Her processor was chasing thoughts on what course of action to take next. She heaved a frustrated sigh and grunted, “I can’t believe I trusted you that it would be this easy—”

“What did you say?”

She didn’t hear him. “I should have known something like this would happen dealing with A—”

“I _said_ , what did you just say to me?”

Arcee looked at Knock Out. His faceplate was so close to hers and those sharp red optics of his were staring directly at her, the light reflecting off her silver faceplate.

“What?” She snapped out of her thoughts

Knock Out regarded her with a dangerous look. “I believe you said ‘I can’t believe I trusted you’. Do you honestly believe I dragged you out here knowing there were going to be insecticons that would outnumber us?”

“I—”

“Because I’m a ‘ _Decepticon_ ’, right?” he pressed, leaning towards her more. “You still think I would deceive you, don’t you? Splendid. And here I thought we were starting to understand one another.”

Something stirred inside her when she saw that look he gave, a look that said... well it said exactly what she had said: ' _I can't believe I trusted you_ '. She shook her helm her instinct was to deny him because Autobots didn't 'judge' but... he was right. She didn’t trust him. It wasn't that Arcee thought he was withholding information from her, no, she wasn't paranoid. What she had meant specifically by that statement was that she was angry for believing he could grant her what she needed.

But Knock Out was correct, every time she looked at him, he was still that ‘decepticon’ that she was teaming up with for this one mission. Somehow, she couldn’t look past those red optics of his and see anything other than a ‘con who would string her along, withhold information, or use her, possibly at the risk of her own life. Was Knock Out capable of that? If he was a Decepticon for millions of years, then he had already done all of that tenfold, so why wouldn't he do it to her now?

“I didn’t mean it that way,” she said eventually.

Last time when she had apologised to him, he had forgiven her surprisingly quickly. There was no such luck this time. Knock Out only continued to stare at her then spoke finally while looking away.

“I’m not leaving here until Airachnid is dead. I know,” and he looked back at her, holding her gaze, “that you feel the same. Because what do we return to, Arcee? We become Ratchet or Wheeljack or any of the others. And I will not allow myself to become that when the answer is right _here_. You crave it as I do. You came here to kill.” He paused, and a cruel smile crossed his faceplate. She gave him a confused look. “A Decepticon and an Autobot, is that what you see? But are we not similar?”

“Knock Out,” Arcee gave a warning reply.

“Why?” His vocaliser was calm. “Afraid of the answer, are we?”

“ _I,_ ” Arcee spat, thrusting a digit to her chassis. “Am not afraid of anything. Okay, so you’re right, we’re similar. We have the same goal." That was as far as Arcee was going to broach on the subject. "If we find Airachnid and try to attack her, she’s just going to call for her insecticons. They’ll swarm us and then it’s game over, no second chances.”

“So what do you propose?” Knock Out asked.

A clever smirk deviated onto Arcee’s faceplate. “They’re in the mess hall, right? That means the bots that ran this facility expected their prisoners to mass in there. Lots of them, all at once.”

“What are you getting at?” But understanding was already dawning on Knock Out’s faceplate.

“That means,” Arcee explained with confidence, “ that there should be a security lock on the doors, locking in prisoners during a breakout or riot.”

“Ah!” Knock Out, too, shared her confident smile. “Clever! Where do you expect us to find this switch for the doors?”

“Well,” Arcee said, slowly raising to her pedes, “it would make sense if there was a place to monitor the mess hall and turn on the doors from there… let’s go take a look.” She noticed Knock Out grimace at the idea of following her back into that room filled with insecticons.

Standing just by the entrance doors, Arcee brightened her optics to scan along the ceiling. Knock Out stood half behind her, as if trying to shield himself from the sleeping bots. “All I see,” he said, voice heightened with anxiety, “is rows and rows of bug bots…”

“There,” she whispered. Her lights hit a window and reflected the light back onto her. Looking up across the room was a guard tower. Following the tower downwards, she noticed a trail of stairs leading to the base.

She motioned for Knock Out to follow her as she took a cautious step into the mess hall. Arcee knew she had no choice but to dim her optic lights as much as she could as to avoid attracting the insecticon attention. There was no way to be sure how long they had been powered down, or how deep a sleep they were really in. So to err on the side of safety, she kept her optics down focused in front of her. One pede in front of the other until she made it all the way to the tower on the other side.

Slowly, Arcee strode over dead frames and mangled tables. Carefully, she took note of every rock, every pebble that she approached, alert to step over anything that could make a sound. She could feel the nervousness and tension course through her frame, over-heightening her senses to the point where she was almost a distraction to herself. It had been a long time since she had had to rely on her stealth to stay alive, and judging by her recent attempts at stealth, she was more than a little rusty.

Placing a hand on the tower railing, Arcee carefully laid a pede on the metal stair. She paused before moving on, waiting and listening for some kind of distortion in the insecticons' snoring. Once she was sure none had been riled, she continued up the stairs, one step, then another, Knock Out not far behind her. Climbing the tower felt like it had taken an orn at the pace they went, but eventually, the end was in sight.

Arcee quickly shut the door behind them, ensuring to lock it by lowering the metal bar across the door. As soon as they were inside, both of them exuded a venting breath of relief.

“Okay, I think that’s enough games for me,” Knock Out sighed, placing a servo over his chassis where his spark chamber lay underneath.

“There’s another door here,” Arcee commented. She opened the second door and took a peek down the black hallway. “Once we lock the insecticons inside, we can just continue our search out here.” Closing the door, she also barred that door, just as a precaution.

“Now let’s see…” Knock Out spoke, already approaching the control panel. “Which button is labelled ‘lock in the insecticons’? It's a shame there's no 'incinerate all insecticons inside as well' button, wouldn't you agree?”

Arcee stood next to him, gazing at all the switches in front of her. She pointed to a button that read 'lockdown'. Knock Out shrugged and hit the button. They both tensed, waiting to hear the doors close. They continued to wait.

“Nothing’s working,” he said dryly. He turned on his headlights and shone them through the window. The doors were still open. He shut off his headlights. “Any bright ideas?” he asked.

“Well," Arcee said, looking over the switches and buttons again. In their rush to lock in the insecticons, it hadn't really hit her that none of the lights were on on the control panel. "Probably because the power is out."

"Then we need a new plan," Knock Out said.

"Not... not necessarily," Arcee said slowly, looking around the room.

Arcee placed a hand on her hip, searching the room for something in particular. "This is a prison, right? They would have had a failsafe security method in case of a power out. They couldn't risk a riot, right? So there should be something here, something that runs on hydraulics to shut the doors." She noticed a switch. There was a label above it that she had to clear the dirt off of to read. "Here we go, back up lockdown switch. This ought to do it."

Placing both servos on the switch she heaved her upper frame strength into yanking down the switch. Nothing happened. She tried again, and again. Still nothing.

"I don't understand," Arcee gasped, "this _should_ work. This is the back-up! It doesn't _need_ power! I-" She felt a servo rest on her shoulder.

"It's okay," Knock Out said somberly. "Happens to most bots."

She scowled at him. "No," she said curtly, "something must be blocking the doors. I need you to go check."

"Yes, of co- wha! What, me?! Why me!?" Knock Out cried out, "Why do I have to go back out into the insecticon death room?!"

She shook her helm. "You have the phase shifter in case you get locked out.”

"Then _you_ take the phase shifter," he flustered back.

"Knock Out you'll be _fine_ ," Arcee insisted. "Clearly, they're sound asleep. Just go back, clear the rubble blocking the doors and come back."

"Yes, it sounds so delightfully easy, doesn't it?” He said with mock cheer, “Why don't I just pop off like a little daily errand- it’ll be a _milk run_.”

"Just _go_. I want to get this over with," Arcee groaned. She waved a servo for him to leave the room.

"Aren't we the bossy one," Knock Out muttered to himself as he switched on the phase shifter.

"Thank-you," she called after him.

Not expecting it, but Knock Out stopped. He paused, turned around and stared at her. His red eyes cut through the dark and she could see a vague outline of him.

"I would say 'you're welcome'," came his smooth voice, flowing through the darkness, "but I'll save it for after I know I come out of this alive." She knew he saw her smile before he shifted through the locked door.

Arcee returned to the control panel by the switch while she waited for Knock Out to give an indication that he had cleared the doors.

While Arcee may be naive about certain things, certain _topics_ , she wasn't unobservant. Every time she expressed a gratitude or notion that she had been thinking of his well being, Knock Out was always genuinely surprised, but sincerely grateful. Perhaps that wasn't something that existed amongst Decepticons. So much for being 'alike', she thought. The more she got to know Knock Out, the more she saw Autobot-like qualities in him. No, his servos were not clean, that was certain, his morals could be questionable, but he wasn't like the Decepticons she had known. Most of them ruthless for killing, most of them like Starscream, Megatron or... Airachnid. No, if you ranked Knock Out on that scale he wasn't much like a Decepticon at all.

"So there is some rubble caught inside the track here," came Knock Out's voice over her comm-link. "I'll need a good buffing after clearing all this moon dust and dirt out of here, I'll have you know."

A playful smirk crossed Arcee's faceplate. "I thought we agreed we're not interested in each other that way."

"We're not!" came Knock Out's huffy response, "I didn't say I wanted _you_ to buff me, did I?"

Before Arcee could even begin to think of a comical retort to have the upper servo in that conversation, her audio receptors picked up a faint constant sound. Frowning, she looked down at the control panel, the sound, albeit quiet, was irritating, like something was jammed. But what could it-

_The failsafe button!_

“Knock Out! Mo--”

_CLANG!!!_

“ _Augh!!_ ” A strangled shout of what sounded like surprise, or pain crackled through her comm-link but was instantly drowned out by powerfully resounding noise of the doors sealing.

"Knock Out??" she called reactively through their comm-link. But she was hardly able to get his name out for the sound that sent reverberations all through the metal floors and walls shook the whole room. Arcee could feel them run through the tower base, up through the floor and through her own pedes up into her wobbling legs. Gasping in horror, Arcee clung to the control panel, her sharp digits scraping into the metal control panel to keep herself upright. 

Arcee instantly intensified the light from her optics in hopes to glimpse the status of the room beyond her window. Hopefully, she wouldn’t see the frame of Knock Out sliced in two either. While she caught no glimpse of him, no gleaming red metallic paint reflecting back at her, what she did see cause her to feel like hurling up all her energon.

The traveling echo had shaken the entire room, of course including the ceiling, violently stirring the clinging powered down insecticons.

_No! No, no, no!_

But no matter how fervently Arcee wished what had just happened could come undone, with every no she uttered in her processor, another insecticon would stir. Then another and more until their fluttering wings generated a rippling wave of awakening across the entire ceiling until every insecticon buzzed and hummed. Louder, their choir cultivated until the ceiling became a sea of acute red optics, all of them narrowing their focus onto the lone light in the room, the source of their abrupt awakening, Arcee.

Gasping, Arcee dimmed her optics but it was too late. She had barely seen them rearing in a frenzy before she could duck beneath the counter of the control panel. But the distinct shrill cry emitting from the mass insecticons created one horrific sound that clawed at Arcee’s audio receptors.

“Arcee!”

“Knock Out?!” Arcee immediately responded over the comm-link when she heard Knock Out call out. “You’re alive!”

Before anyone could say anything more, Arcee was thrown across the little room, her helm slamming into the door on the opposite side. Optics wide, she turned to see what had shaken the entire room. She was thrown again when she felt another thud, then another and another and she looked to the window to realise the insecticons were all throwing themselves against the glass window. It did not take long before the entire view was nothing but shrieking and ravaging insecticons, pressing their wicked teeth and starving optics against the glass. Behind those that pressed against the glass, more thudded against them to join in the party. Then, horrified by what she saw, Arcee realised that as the insecticons threw themselves over and over, clawing and smashing and banging and tearing at the window, it was slowly, but unmistakably beginning to crack.

Arcee had to get out of the room.

“Arcee!” It was Knock Out’s voice over her comm-link again. At least he was still alive. “What happened?! I had the phase shifter on- if I hadn’t the doors, they would have crushed me! The insecticons-”

“Are trying to break into the security tower, I know!” she shot back, struggling to raise to her pedes as the entire tower shook from the battering.

“What are you going to do?” came his urgent response. “You’re locked in, I have the phase shifter! There’s no way I would make it across that room-”

“Find the entrance to the security tower on the other side!” Arcee shouted back. She was hurled yet again, smashing her back into some switches sticking out of the wall. She groaned, but fought to stay up right. “I’m trying to get to this door, but-”

She wasn’t sure what happened first- did it even matter? Not only did the glass finally shatter, but she felt the sickening feeling of the ground sliding out from beneath her. Perhaps it was in her favour that the entire tower, old and falling apart as it was, could no longer take the beating of the countless insecticons, that it began to crumble beneath her and deteriorate into chunks of metal and stone. For if it hadn’t given way right there and then, the burst of insecticons into the room, a thick, black, cloud of them, would have swarmed her, crushing her against the back wall of the tower. But instead, she narrowly slipped beneath them, her shout of surprise drowned out by the equal surprise of the insecticons.

Attempting to brace herself, Arcee clung to the chunk of toppling ground, until it turned midair, and Arcee had to cling to another falling piece. She struggled to reach for the apex armor strapped onto her back, but she could feel the surface begin to crumble beneath her pedes. With no time to activate the armour, she leapt for another piece, for _something_ to hold onto until she could jump to safe ground. But something impacted her from behind, sending her flying into a hunk of rock. Pinning her down and abrasively shrieking at her was an insecticon. Arcee had a split nanosecond to grasp the insecticon by it’s own fangs, pushing its hungry snapping jaw away from her own pipes.

Gasping, she saw two more fly at her, impacting with the insecticon pinning her. Their combined weight smashed through the rock Arcee was pinned against and she crashed unexpectedly to the ground. Shouting out in pain, Arcee clamped her optics shut, avoiding collapsing debris from falling into them. Through her constant shuttering optics to clear what small debris had made its way into her vision, she glimpsed more insecticons weaving their way through the chunks of tower that continued to topple down.

Hurling herself upright, Arcee did a backwards flip to avoid their impact as they crashed into the ground where she had been momentarily. Whipping out her guns, Arcee began bombarding the continuing onslaught of insecticons. Some of them she blasted, managing to blind them in their optics and sending them reeling while others collided into rock and metal raining from above.

Focusing on the two rushing towards her, Arcee hunched herself and shot out a string of continuous shots. Each blast hit their mark, causing the insecticons to scream their hideous cry in shock. Not willing to relent, Arcee watched intently as they dove upwards just as they had been about to impact into her as she fired more blasts at their fleeing backs.

She took a step backwards, twisting her frame to notice another insecticon coming at her from her other side. Aiming for its optic, she was just about to fire, confident her aim was true when she felt a sense of sinking dread overcome her. It was too late when just a split klick later she realised the ‘sinking’ feeling was all too real.

Below her pedes, the ground began to crumble and what started as a gradual disintegration became a vacuum she could not hope to escape. Not only was the security tower old and finally ready to give in to gravity but apparently the floor had the same sentiments. The weight of the broken tower was too much and now, yet again, Arcee realised she was going to be taken for another surprising ride. Only this time, she was not sure where this fall would lead to. Perhaps into the pits of Luna 2, never to be seen and heard, crushed to death by rock and dead insecticons.

Letting out a sharp cry, Arcee bolted like a little bolt of blue lightning as fast as she could from the crumbling ground but it was too late and she felt herself slip in what felt like nothingness. She cursed herself for not having activated the apex armor yet, but being the target of the chaos all around her, she found even just the split astrosecond it would take to reach behind her back, was a time wasted that could instead potentially save her life from either an insecticon or falling debris.

The insecticon that had been racing towards her would have ploughed into her if the ground had not given way, she felt the rush of wind as it sped past and she made one last attempt to grab onto one of its legs but she missed by a sliver.

Servo still grasping for the missing leg, she felt something impact it and latch onto her. Gasping as she felt her frame strain from breaking her fall, she looked up. Holding tightly to her servo was Knock Out, laying on the ground.

“Behind you!” Arcee shouted.

Rolling on the ground, Knock Out angled his energon prod upwards just in time to slice into a lunging insecticon’s mouth. Releasing a burst of electric energy through the prod, the insecticon’s whole frame lit up with electricity crackling around it.  
But just as the reared insecticon fell to the ground, three more thudded next it and together, their combined weight shattered the floor and there was no-one to save the both of them. There was no way they would be able to survive the broken tower, the insecticons and the floor tumbling on top of them.

Falling yet still holding servos, Knock Out pushed himself off a falling chunk, grabbing Arcee by the waist and before she realised what was happening, a mangled piece of the control panel smacked into them.

Or rather, _through_ them. She felt a tingle as more debris, insecticons, both flying to attack and already deceased and falling all of which flew through them thanks to the phase shifter Knock Out wore.

Now, Arcee reached behind her and clicked the on the apex armor, Knock Out let out a surprised sound as the armor built around Arcee, encasing her with its indestructible protection.

Despite his surprise, Knock Out held onto Arcee, allowing for them to both take advantage of the phase shifter’s ghosting powers. Utilising that power, Arcee pulled Knock Out into the apex armor to better shield the both of them from the deadly rain of tower and floor chunks. One hit to the helm alone could kill either of them instantly. 

“A bit cramped in here, isn’t it?” Knock Out grumbled.

“I’d rather get to know you more closely than the insecticons,” Arcee retorted. 

They fell through darkness for what seemed like far too long when they both cried out from impact. Smacking into ground, the apex armor took the brunt of the force but without warning, deactivated. 

Arcee and Knock Out were tossed in opposite directions. Arcee managed to glimpse Knock Out, still with the phase shifter, skidding through a series of pipes while Arcee abruptly smacked into one, no longer having the power the bracelet provided.

Feeling small debris rain on her from above, Arcee risked a glance upwards. Shielding her optics, she realised most of the large chunks of the tower and floor were being caught above them, by endless rows of criss-crossing pipes. That was what they had fallen through, until they had hit another solid ground, in which the smart-feature of the phase shifter kicked in, recognising ground, stopped phasing them.

“Knock Out?” she called, coughing dust out of her pipes.

Arcee stumbled forwards, her frame sore and beaten from the ordeal. She scrunched up instinctively when more harmless debris streamed down on her. Striding forwards cautiously, Arcee peered through the pipes in the direction Knock Out had fallen. She had seen movement through some of the pipes… was that…

Arcee screamed, rearing backwards, back slamming against a pipe when something she had never seen before shot through the pipes. Gnashing and reaching, she gaped in horror at what looked like a long purple cord with dubious barbs at the end thrust towards her. It seemed to not be able to go any farther.

“What the!” she exclaimed in shock.

Both horrified and curious by what the hungry tendril could be, another one shot down from above her and she slammed herself down onto her aft to avoid being struck. She continued to stare up at it, completely baffled, when three more shot down from above. All five cornered her, pinning her against the pipe her back was pressed against with nowhere to go.

With no other alternative, Arcee pulled out her gun again, and took aim to shoot. Just as she was about to fire she yelped. Something had snagged her from around the waist and pulled her _through_ the pipe.

Trapped in a small gap amidst a tangle of pipes, Knock Out’s red optics cast the only light between them. He pressed a digit to his mouthplate for silence, but Arcee wondered why Knock Out would suggest such a gesture unless… unless he might know what those even were.

“What is that? Do you know?” she pressed aggressively. “What are those?” She realised she was still venting heavily.

“Don’t let them touch you,” Knock Out replied instead. His voice was both quiet and grave. Something about him, for his calm exterior, there was something in his optics, something Arcee recognised as terror.

“Why?” she asked. “You know what they are, don’t you?”

His silence said yes.

“Tell me,” she demanded.

Knock Out grimaced, looked away, then back at her. “If that touches you, you’ll become one of them.”

She stared back, mouthplate agape at what he had just said. ‘Become one of them’?" What was this, some sort of berthside story for newsparks? "What is ‘one of them’!?”

He looked back at her, his faceplate strained from what he knew. “Do you remember when I told you about fusing the synthetic energon and the dark energon?”

“Yes?” she asked, confused. “You didn’t want to tell me-”

“Well,” he continued to sound awkward. “Apparently when you fuse the two energons, you create a… an energon vampire.”

“Insecticon vampires!?” Arcee shouted, utterly astounded. “ _You created Insecticon vampires!?_ ”

“Me?!” Knock Out cried back, “What’s with this ‘me’ business?! It was Starscream’s idea, not mine!”

Arcee made an incredulous sound. “What in Primus would Starscream want with insecticon vampires!?”

“Well!” Knock Out snapped back, “Neither of us exactly expected vampires as a result of mixing the two energons! _Vampires_ was never the _plan!_ Neither one of us said ‘hey! I’m bored! Let’s make some vampires because why not’! Do you really think that!?”

“Well how did you kill them the first time?!” Arcee shouted back.

“Uhhh…” Knock Out contemplated. “We didn’t. They all just kinda… um… I guess they all just ended up here!”

Arcee’s optics widened. “That’s just great!!” she exclaimed, throwing her servos up in the air in distress. “So, what, they’re basically indestructible? How are we going to navigate these pipes- even _with_ the phase shifter- and not become vampires!” She paused in mid-speech. “Unless…”

“Duck!”

Before she could perform the action herself, Knock Out had yanked her down and pressed her chassis down onto the ground. He did the same and together they looked up at two twisted vampiric cords reaching for them from above.

“We’re stuck!” Arcee gasped.

Knock Out reached for a fallen debris from the guard tower and threw it against a pipe on the other side of their little safe hideaway. As soon as the metal chunk smacked the pipe, the two vampire glossas shot with hungry fervor in the direction of the sound. In a brisk movement, Knock Out transformed his servo into his buzzsaw and sliced the distracted insecticon glossas clean through.

Arcee tucked her legs up against her chassis on the ground when the severed glossas fell. Above them, they heard the pained shrieks. But just as the insecticons screamed, Arcee and Knock out both heard the rallying cries of other insecticons from far off shout back to their comrades. They knew where their spoils lay hidden now.

“Let’s go!!” Knock Out grabbed Arcee’s servo and using the phase shifter once more, they ran side by side, running through the pipes.

Behind them, they heard the screams gather into one terrifying harmony as the insecticons all masses and fled after the two bots. Then just as their hunting cry came to a thunderous crescendo, the sound stopped. Faltering in her run, Arcee turned her helm to listen to the silence. She felt Knock Out tug on her servo, an indication to keep running.

“Do you think-” she began to say.

Right at that moment, one, no three, no ten, no more! Insecticon vampire glossas thrust down ontop of them and around them through the hedge of pipes. Both bots cried out in alarm and continued to run as the insecticons kept pace with them on the other sides. Arcee could hear their metal claws clanging like thunderous rain on the pipes all around them. The reverberating sound encompassing them shook Arcee's audial receptors, making her stumble and become disorientated. But the glossas continued to shoot through the pipes and they were constantly forced to run, dodge, and jump over these hungry tendrils.

Without warning, Arcee and Knock Out were no longer shielded by the pipes. They had run through the last one and were now in a boiler room. In any case, it didn’t matter where they were because now they were no longer protected by the pipes. Now, they had become hunted creatures in an open field.

Risking a glance behind her, Arcee gasped when she could see the slit red optics of the insecticons through the pipe maze they had left behind. Already, she could hear them banging to bust free.

“Maybe we could use….” she strained to say while they ran. “I mean, if we gather them all together, I brought-”

But before she could even commit to her train of thought, she was thrown forwards from behind as something impacted her. She thought she heard a fracture crack in her back plating.

She struggled to rise as quickly as she could to her pedes. Knowing it must have been a vampire insecticon that had attacked her, Arcee was horrified to see she was just in time to witness Knock Out, too, was tossed into the air by a rushing insecticon.

Before he could hit the ground, another descending insecticon reared up from behind and slammed him into the ground with a violent swing of its servo. Arcee heard a sickening crunch sound when the insecticon rippled its weight onto him. Gasping, Arcee quickly scanned her ally’s frame but did not see any energon flow from him. Looking down at its limp prey, the insecticon drew its head up, locking its expressionless gaze onto Arcee.

She made to crawl forwards but she heard two near instantaneous thuds land next to her. The pebbles at her servos shook as two more insecticons braced either side of her. Out of the corner of her optics, she could see their hungry mouths dripping with fluids. They emitted low chattering that sounded an awful lot like devious chuckling. Hearing more thuds land behind her, one, then another… then another and another and more yet, Arcee tightly shut her optics in despair. Even reaching for the apex armor wouldn’t save her now. The beasts would tear her very arm off before she could even reach it.

It couldn’t end this way. Was this really how her spark was going to go out? Slain by vampire insecticons because she had followed the lead of a Decepticon, herself every bit as thirsty for revenge? Would her friends ever know? Each of their faces flashed before her processor's optic. They would be ashamed.

She could feel the shadows of the insecticons encasing her as they loomed over her, one of them slowly coming closer, his glossa fluids dripping down from his mouth and onto her helm. She could almost smell the stench and soon, she knew, Arcee would feel it's entire maw wrap around her helm and...

“Boys, boys… is that any way to treat a lady?”

Arcee froze.

Slowly, the insecticons stood up right, pulling away from Arcee but holding their positions to guard her movements. But Arcee was hardly aware of them anymore, in fact, it was as if they had been erased from her processor. Because all she could focus on now was that voice. That voice that began to call forth that internal rage. The rage that rose within and spread to every nook of her entire frame until it flooded her being.

Arcee's digits dug deep into the ground, almost bending and breaking them backwards as she clung. It was the only thing keeping her from losing it entirely.

That voice.

That voice had _no right_ to still exist. No right when the war was over and everyone important to Arcee was dead. Somehow this voice persisted and even against the odds that presented itself, Arcee would kill that voice. It would happen tonight.

“Well, look what my boys dragged in. Arcee." A soft chuckle. She had to die. _She had to die_. "I can't say I ever expected to see you so soon, not in my humble kingdom."

And slowly, out of the shadows, the Queen emerged. Airachnid stood, now not even a pede's length away from Arcee who was crouched defeated onto the ground. Airachnid looked from her, to Knock Out's unconscious frame, then back to Arcee. "I think we should get you and your new _partner_ comfortable. I haven't had company yet, and with two guests, I can guarantee we're going to have a fun time." She turned to meld back into the shadows. "At least, for myself."

Arcee didn't have time to look up. That was when the insecticons descended on her.

 

**_(The Flashback. . . During the War)_ **

Despite the medical equipment and all of their computers being located _inside_ the mountain with a closed entrance, somehow, a good heap of desert sand sure did manage to make its way into every nook and corner inside Ratchet’s computers. He had said something about her having the smallest servos to get inside the delicate equipment to be able to clean it out without breaking anything, but Arcee had her doubts. She was positive he just didn’t like her.

Well, the feeling was mutual. She sat back on her legs and peered through the slim gap in the diagnostics machine, optics searching for any trace of sand she had missed. 

She didn’t like him either. Or any of them, for that matter. Well, except Bumblebee, she still liked him, even if she hadn’t seen him in a few groons. But they didn’t really talk. He had always been closer with Tailgate instead of her. What point was there in talking with the voiceless bot anyway, when he was probably just going to bring up Tailgate and want to reminisce about her deceased partner? No, Arcee would rather be one step ahead and put Bumblebee on the ‘avoid’ list.

And that list included... everybot. It wasn’t that Arcee thought herself that cold, but rather there only a handful of bots on Optimus Prime’s hidden earth base. When his coded message had said ‘we are few’, he sure hadn’t been kidding. ‘We are few’ meant a couple hundred to Arcee at the least. How could she have ever imagined ‘a few’ literally meant ‘ four’.

Arcee emptied the small vacuum into the bucket next to her that was slowly beginning to fill with her collected sand. She had been at this task for a ridiculous amount of time. Warily, she eyed the other equipment Ratchet had lined up for her. Not many left now, but as for how long it would take to remove the sand from her own servos, well, she made a disgusted expression and shook her servo over the bucket, that would take all night.

“Someone should close a window around here every once in awhile, huh?” came that chipper voice from behind her. Displaying a smirk of exasperation, Arcee turned around to look up at who had just approached her. He gave a cheerful crow of a laugh, “I mean whose idea was it to set up a base in the middle of a desert? I never knew that I had gone my whole life never knowing this amazing feeling of sand always being in my aft!”

“And it’ll wind up in your pipes too if you keep talking,” Arcee retorted. She couldn’t help but keep the playful tone out of her voice, despite her frustration. Every time Cliffjumper walked past her, he would make some sort of comment. The chatty bot always had something to say, much to Ratchet’s chargin who would constantly say:

“Get back to work!” Ratchet called from his station on the other side of the base. His back was to the two bots as he stared, focused on his files on the computer screen. “I need all the equipment inside before the sandstorm tonight. We have no replacements for this equipment if it becomes damaged!”

“Don’t worry, doc!” Cliffjumper called back. But instead of continuing towards the storage garage with the equipment he had been carrying, he knelt down next to Arcee behind the computer she was cleaning. Hidden from Ratchet’s sight should he turn around, Cliffjumper continued, “You know you can rely on me! You know, back at the Sparkling Distribution Centre in Iacon, they called me—”

“Yes, yes,” Ratchet muttered, clearly tuning Cliffjumper out.

Cliffjumper peeked over the computer, stealing a glance at Ratchet working. He ducked back behind and grinned at Arcee.

“He’s hilarious, isn’t he?” Cliffjumper chucked, “Don’t think he can stand the sound of my vocaliser, but it works in my favour sometimes.”

Arcee shook her head, fighting the smile off her faceplate. “I wouldn’t call that one ‘hilarious’, no.” Then she grimaced, “I actually think he has it out for me. I think he’s making me clean the computers out of spite and nothing at all related to my small servos.”

“What makes you say that?” Cliffjumper gave an incredulous look but his smile persisted nonetheless.

“He doesn’t like my attitude,” Arcee replied, “he knows I don’t like it here. So he’s making me do some menial soldier cleaning task to teach me patience or something. It’s a waste of our time and our talents.” Feeling heated from her emotions, she began to fall into a rant, “We could be out there right now with Optimus, not stuck in here doing clean up. There’s more important things, the ‘cons-”

“Nah,” Cliffjumper cut her off and she huffed from frustration. “Ratchet’s just an old grumpy bot. You take everything so personally,” he laughed.

“Personally?” Arcee scoffed, her rant clearly not over. “Why wouldn’t I take it personally? I have vorns of training, I’ve been involved in winning some very crucial battles. I clearly have something to offer this team that they don’t already have and why they’re not taking advantage of I don’t understand.”

Arcee looked down at the vacuum cleaner in her servo. Cleaning sand. She was _cleaning sand_. Making a disgusted sound of defeat, she tossed the vacuum onto the ground where it clattered.

“Don’t break anything!” came Ratchet’s voice.

Arcee rolled her optics. “Nothing broke!” she called back. In a hushed voice to Cliffjumper, she said, “There are five of us- _five_ \- fighting bots and we’re sitting here doing nothing. I thought we were in a war against ‘cons, not,” she looked to the sand filled bucket, “ _dirt_.”

“We’ve only been here a few orns,” Cliffjumper said. He settled himself into a more comfortable sitting position. “We-”

“Are you saying Optimus doesn’t trust us yet?” Arcee interrupted, hostility beginning to boil inside her. “That we need to _prove_ ourselves or something?”

Again, Cliffjumper just gave a hearty laugh. “And you call me the chatty one!”

Arcee made an exasperated sound, but caught herself unable to look away from Cliffjumper’s optics. Somehow, they seemed to sparkle as if they were laughing with him. Realising she was flushing at the thought of being so enrapt by him, she struggled to look away. But they held her in such a comforting way, in a way that made nothing more than a kind offer. Did Arcee know what that offer was? She had her suspicions. Ever since the two had arrived on Earth and together joined Optimus Prime's team, they had relied more on one another for companionship. They had not known each other long before their arrival here, but even that short bond was quickly becoming a close one.

“Arcee," Cliffjumper continued his vocaliser soothing, "you trust me. You let me in. Sure, it maybe took us a life-endangering adventure to bond, but there's no need to be so reserved around these guys. They're pretty cool once you get to know them!"

Unable to respond, it took Arcee a moment to realise she was staring into Cliffjumper's optics for far too long. Embarrassed, she turned away to shield her tinged faceplate.

"I'm here to help win a war," she replied, still looking away. She looked down at the vacuum cleaner again and vented out. "Not indulge in chit-chat." Then she added more to herself, "If Optimus ever lets me."

Cliffjumper feigned a wince. "So I take it you’re not looking forward to the party tonight?"

"Party?" Arcee gave a sarcastic laugh, reaching for the vacuum. "Yeah, it's some wild party I have going on here. Me, the vacuum and all the desert sand I could ever hope for."

"No!" Cliffjumper laughed, "The scanning party! 'Bee and Bulk want to come with us tonight when we go find some earth modes to scan. It's going to be fun! You already know 'Bee, but the two of you can catch up and you can get to know Bulkhead more-"

"Cliff, I just told you my answer," Arcee interrupted. She pulled up the next machine to clean. 

"But if everyone else is going," he suggested, "then it's okay! Optimus knows. It's not like we have somewhere else to be fighting cons or anything! Besides! We need earth modes. It'll be fun!"

Arcee regarded Cliffjumper through the corner of her optics. Shaking her helm, she returned to her task. "No, thanks. I'll scan an earth mode some other time."

Cliffjumper crossed his arms. "Arcee, what's the deal! I thought we were past the whole 'partner' thing. What's got your wires in a twist? It can't possibly be because you're worried about getting close to them, is it?"

Arcee abruptly stopped working. She pulled away from the machine. "No. I don't even know them, I mean, except 'Bee, but, I mean- look! I-"

"Are you two working back there?" Ratchet's huffy voice called. "I don't hear that vacuum going!"

"Yes, Ratchet!" Arcee shouted back, her vexation for Ratchet increasing. "I'm working!"

"Here," Cliffjumper whispered to her. He reached for the vacuum and turned it on on the ground, then he held his servo out, waiting for Arcee to take it.

Confused, Arcee hesitated before placing her servo in his. Clasping it tightly yet gently, he pulled her to her pedes and lead her in a light run to the base's main hallway and out of Ratchet's sight. Even just the simple act of Cliffjumper holding her hand in his, Arcee couldn't pretend she didn't feel that light pulse from her spark. Being near him, having him touch her even in such a simple way, she just wanted to spend more and more time with him. It had been a long time since such feelings had stirred inside Arcee for another bot. 

Once in the privacy of the hallway, Cliffjumper leaned against the wall and just stared at her. Taken aback by his silence, she stared back, feeling awkward. What was he looking at? Or more accurately, what did he see now, in her? She attempted to assume some control by placing her servos on her hips. 

"What's up?" she asked. 

Cliffjumper paused a moment, shut his optics, then grinned. "I'm just concerned about you."

She wasn't sure what she expected him to say, but she hadn't been expecting concern. A small part of her felt a little let down by his answer. "I'm _fine_ ," Arcee retorted, crossing her own arms. "I really should go back and finish cleaning and _you_ need to bring in that equipment before the-"

"Do you trust me?"

Arcee faltered, caught completely off guard.

"I-I-" she stammered, "What?" Scrap, was she flushing in her faceplate again?

Cliffjumper pushed himself off the wall, his faceplate an expression of insistent concern. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do," she replied. She looked to the side and back again nervously. "Why would you even ask me that?"

Instead, he said, "If you don't wanna go, I'm not gonna make you. But," it was his turn to stammer, something Cliffjumper never did. "I was really looking forwards to you coming with us!"

Arcee stared at him. There was something strange in the atmosphere, something between them. Arcee just wished whatever it was hiding between them, would just reveal itself. "You could have told me that out there," she said, pointing to the main area of the base. "What do you mean, asking me if I trust you? You know I do."

But Cliffjumper retained his nervous stance, but even still, his usual bravado somehow managed to shine through it. "You told me you trust me, you call me your partner. Even if we don't see much action on the field. But you're still always so guarded. I mean, that's okay," he quickly held up his servos defensively, "that's fine! It doesn't bother me or anything. But I guess I just wanted to make sure that, I guess, that you're happy with me." The stammer was returning, "As in, I don't know, you don't want to get to know the others and I just wanted to know if I was in that category with them or-"

"No, Cliff," she interrupted, motioning with her servos that he could stop talking. "You're not in that category. I do trust you." Arcee wrapped her arms around herself. Suddenly, she was finding it difficult to articulate herself too. "I like spending time with you. Maybe we could do the earth scanning thing together, but just you and me."

The grin on Cliffjumper's faceplate was infectious and Arcee could feel her internals tinge with a heat. 

"That'd be- I- yeah!" Cliffjumper enthused, "Oh that's great!" Once again they caught themselves unable to look away from each other. Arcee found such solace in them, a sense of normalcy and permission to trust again. "But, you know," he continued, "maybe you could trust the others too. Eventually."

Again having this conversation of the others thrust upon her, Arcee looked away bitterly, becoming hostile. 

"Cliff, I can't just just throw my trust around," she began.

"I'm not asking you that!" he amended swiftly. "Maybe... I'm asking you to try?" When she didn't respond, he made another attempt. "What is it Arcee?" he asked softly, taking a step towards her. She took one step back. "Are you scared of losing them like Tailgate?" As she was thinking over her response, he said, "I lost someone too, Arcee.”

Optics shuttering, she was caught off guard. “W-what? You never told me that.” Despite being truly shocked at this new information, she felt the urge to give him a comforting embrace but held back. Perhaps such a move would be too forward of her. 

Cliffjumper shrugged, but he sounded despondent recalling the memory. “It was my spark-brother, he didn't even make it to the war. He was murdered, you know? But at least they caught the killer and sent them to Garrus One. At least I know they're going to suffer for eternity in a place like that, right?"

"It's the worst place you can send a bot," Arcee assured him solemnly.

"I think about him sometimes. He really enjoyed life, that's why I live mine to the fullest. I owe it to his memory." He paused, looking at Arcee. She thought, for just a moment, she caught something reflected in his optics. Something telling about the way he looked at her now. Even if he said nothing, she felt appreciated, no, more than just appreciated... she felt... "He was in love when he died, Arcee." It was obvious he was fighting to keep the joy when he spoke. "'Said he was gonna run away with this cute little femme that was supposed to be paired up with someone else. But that they were gonna make it work and be together. But he was killed before that could happen. I never met her."

“Sounds a lot like my story,” Arcee spoke softly.

“Yeah, what a coincidence," Cliffjumper agreed. He still sounded distracted by the past. "He had so much going on, Arcee. Life can be short but it can also last... a million year war. I guess what I'm saying, life is unpredictable. So say things while you have the chance. That's what I say."

Arcee nodded in understanding. She couldn't believe Cliffjumper had never told her this story before. Perhaps that meant he didn't just wear his emotions on his servo the way he always made it appear. Then if so, did this mean he was trusting her more too? 

Inwardly, she frowned at this thought. She had always taken him for granted that he always shared everything with her. How could she not assume that what with how talkative he was? But, as she now understood, it was the quality of his conversation that revealed to her how much trust he placed in her. 

Such a curious bot, she thought. A part of her would have been frustrated with Cliffjumper’s confusing layers, but instead, she only found herself all the more intrigued by him- like a magnet pulling her ever closer. 

“It’s a decent philosophy,” Cliffjumper said cautiously. “Don’t you think?” Arcee realised he was still trying to gently poke at her self-protective bubble. Even if it was him, even if she had let him in, that didn’t mean she was willing to let in everyone he deemed trustworthy. 

"I don't know if it started with Tailgate, or my life before the war with my sires,” she said. “But I just can't trust easily. It's just who I am, okay?" She kept herself as calm as possible, not wanting to chase him away. It wasn’t him. It was them. 

No, that wasn’t right either. It was _her_.

"That's fine." Cliffjumper stepped forwards, and this time, he held both of his servos out. "I don't want you to feel like you have to be some bot you're not. I want you to feel comfortable... especially with me."

Tentatively, she reached out and gently placed her servos on top of his. He close his servos around hers and held them. As he did, she thought felt a sense of composure overwhelm her.

"I do," she replied. No, Arcee could not ignore that incredible solace he provided. It was something he offered her, something he allowed her to take by her own volition if she chose it- and she did. Despite wanting it, despite taking it, Arcee wasn't sure what to call it. At least not yet, but whatever it was, she knew that Cliffjumper would always, patiently, be waiting for her with it. 

"I'll tell them thanks but no thanks," he said softly, raising her servos up between them. "We'll go out and scan our Earth modes together whenever you're ready. Sound fun?"

That smile of his was dangerous, but oh, how she needed to see it- and how it was for her alone. That's what Arcee relished about being around Cliffjumper, how he was always so willing to share his gift of happiness with her. 

Ever since she met him on Cybertron while scouting out on her own, it had changed her for the better. It uncovered parts of her that she had thought had long since buried by years of loss. Slowly but surely, Cliffjumper was bringing the real Arcee back to the world without her even realising, and she couldn’t wait to become that future self. She had lived so much of her life thinking the real Arcee waited for herself only at the end of the war. But could it possibly be she was closer to herself that she imagined?

"Arcee! Cliffjumper!"

The two bots, so close to one another and holding servos, jumped in surprise at being called.

Ratchet's voice sounded from the main room. "I need the equipment hauled in before the sandstorm! There's no time for socialising!"

Cliffjumper recoiled, laughing. "Oops! Guess I better get back to my task or I'm gonna have more than sand up my aft tonight- like Ratchet's pede when he gives me a swift kick!" He lingered for a moment, looking down at her servos in his. "Let's do this again sometime, shall we?"

Arcee, too, laughed, shaking her helm. "And what's that exactly?"

"Skip out on our tasks and chat leisurely in the hallway, of course!" he replied boisterously while she laughed with him. He turned to leave but halted in mid jog. Quickly, he added,"... and maybe next time I'll get to give you a kiss too!" And off he ran to the main room towards the upstairs elevator.

Did he just say what she thought he said!? _Kiss??_ Okay, so maybe the label for what he offered her was right in front of her after all. Or right in front of Cliffjumper in any case!

"Cliffjumper!!" she shouted back in shock. 

Completely taken aback, she felt herself flush once more. But at the same time, she caught that infectious smile of Cliffjumper’s. Lingering in the hallway, she felt her spark pulse with excitement at the thought of Cliffjumper's proposition. Perhaps in the grand scheme of things, they had not known each other all that long, not yet anyway, but Arcee was willing to trust him and find out just how long this road they were on might take them. At her own pace.


	6. Blue Moon |&| Pink Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knock Out's first up. If he's confident that Airachnid won't get the better of him, he may be in for a surprise. One particular surprise she has in store will not only shock him, but also provide a radical explanation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay in posting!! I really appreciate all the patience and those continuing to read this story. :) Thanks again to those that left kudos since my last posting- it encourages me to keep going!

Blue. Knock Out could see a blue form ahead of him. But it was so blurry he could barely make out who it could be. Still, he felt a pulse within his spark, one like he had not felt in orns. It could only be one bot.

“Breakdown?” he called. The form began walking away from him, towards an open door. Panic overcame him, as if somehow, Knock Out knew that if Breakdown walked through that door, he would never see him again.

Bursting into a sprint, Knock Out pelted forwards, chasing at that blue blur.

“Breakdown!” he called again. “Stop!”

But the figure continued to ignore him and still Knock Out ran. Yet the more he ran, the less ground he gained and he soon realised he would never reach him in time. Making a quick decision, Knock Out transformed into his alt form and roared his engine, racing forwards. He pinned the needle on his speedometer, ready to snap as he defied the limit.

“I said stop! Don’t go!” he commanded. It was the only thing he could think of to control Breakdown from disappearing through that door. “I changed my mind! I want to-”

And in that instance, the room sped forwards and the blue blur whipped around at him. Out of pure shock, Knock Out transformed out of his alt mode and fell backwards. But the blue mass pounded forwards and was now looming over him. Staring up at it in horror, Knock Out saw that it wasn’t Breakdown anymore. Instead, the whole orange faceplate peeled open and a long, purple glossa with hungry claws shot forwards in a burst of speed. Knock Out had no time to react. He cried out as the last thing he saw was that vampiric cable ready to tear off his own faceplate and drain his energon.

 

Knock Out vented heavily, murmuring to himself to get a grip. It had only been a nightmare. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had those before. Yet it had terrified him into such a state that he could not control the electrifying panic coursing through his entire system. It wasn’t so much the vampiric glossa that had perturbed Knock Out the most. No, he had dealt with that not just in a dream, but in real life, when he and Starscream had infused Cylas with the dark and synthetic energons. No, Knock Out was highly aware what disturbed him the most in the nightmare was what still haunted him in the waking world. It was, yet again, the guilt. The guilt of not-

He heard talking.

Shifting himself to look around, he instantly realised he was laying on a medslab, angled almost vertically and chained down by his servos and pedes. Being in such a position normally didn't bother Knock Out. But what did cause him to hesitate was who had put him there and for what purpose. He checked his servo joint but, of course, he was no longer wearing the phase shifter..

The memories of what had happened before going unconscious were hazy for him. His processor struggled to fit the pieces together as he evaluated the room. He was in what looked like a small circular dungeon or cell. Cold, with a tall endless ceiling. There was only one door, but no windows. Knock Out was completely shrouded in the darkness except for one lone light. Lifting his helm, he discovered that this light shone from a screen on the wall before him. Allowing his optics to adjust to the brightness slicing through the dark, he recognised the bots on the screen. The recollections of where he was and the purpose for being here all rushed back to him as an aching migraine.

"I haven't seen them since the start of the war!" Arcee's voice was strained, obviously she was covering for a great amount of pain. Being a doctor in a war, Knock Out was quite familiar with that specific tone.

He frowned at what was displayed on the screen. In the video, dangling from chains, was Arcee. She struggled to fidget and squirm, despite having to know how useless her attempts were. Rattling above her, the chains stretched out of sight towards the ceiling. Such a sight was not one he had never seen before, but in this moment, he understood it to be disturbingly grotesque. The entire image made her appear to be a broken marionette doll as the puppetmaster herself strode around her captured prey.

There she was. Airachnid herself. No longer a figment of Knock Out's hatred as he lay alone in his dead lover's berth with only a hi-grade bottle and a few toys to comfort him. She was real. Knock Out studied her intensely. Every movement, every step she made, would not go unscrutinized. Perhaps a small part of him fretted that if he looked away, she wouldn't be real again and he would have to spend the rest of his near immortal life in torment. 

"Arcee, you _know_ what happens when you don’t tell me the truth. It’s almost pathetic at this point, really,” Airachnid said with a chuckle. Knock Out felt himself react with disgust upon hearing her vocaliser once more. “You just keep collecting partners. You know I never pegged you for that type of a femme. I’m beginning to wonder who the real femme fatale is here… or shall we say, who the _black widow_ is of the two of us?”

Arcee pulled away from her captor against her bonds. The chains rattled up into the darkness above her, as if they were mocking her feeble attempts to resist.

“But you do know, Arcee,” Airachnid continued to circle around her, “that this one, well, he’s going to end up breaking your spark. I think he's not used to having the company of us girls."

Arcee gave no expression other than steady detestment to the spider-bot. Airachnid smiled despite realising she was not receiving the reaction she desired out of her prey. 

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” she continued, “that I’d see the two of you here together. Of course, I keep track of those who have little vendettas against me, but I always thought you had this moral compass that kept you away from bad boys.”

At this point, Arcee looked away and at the screen. She stared directly at Knock Out through heavily lidded optics, an indication of how severely she had been tortured while he had been unconscious. Clearly, he had missed much. As soon as Arcee saw that Knock Out was awake (or alive rather), she gave a slight jolt of surprise. Even if the movement had been minimal, it was enough to alert Airachnid. 

“Well!” came her exuberant exclamation.

For the first time, Knock Out saw her faceplate. She turned on point and looked directly at the camera. Her purple optics blazed, penetrating the screen itself sending Knock Out horrific memories that almost sent him into an agonising spiral of anger. Her vicious grin spread, her insecticon fangs glinting. “Look who’s decided to watch a little TV!” As if she had forgotten Arcee altogether, Airachnid strode towards the screen. “I know you and I have similar tastes for gore, I tried to set you up with a channel you might like. Just relax, I’ll be with you soon.” Knock Out’s mouthplate curled into a snarl when she winked at him.

With her back to the camera, Airachnid turned her attention back to Arcee.

“Now where were we?” Airachnid inclined her helm questioningly, “Ah, yes. Since I have you here for as long as I like, the whereabouts of your sires is a good place to start.”

Arcee spoke through gritted denta, “ _I told you._ I don’t know where they are.”

Airachnid walked past Arcee, running a clawed servo across Arcee’s frame, slicing her. Arcee cried out in pain, as soon as she did, she clamped her mouthplate shut, biting back the rest of the pain. 

“Poor, poor, Arcee...” Airachnid replied, almost melancholy. “Don’t you understand where you are? I have far more at my disposal than just my servos to pain you, dear.” She made a broad gesture, “I know far more about this prison than you could ever know.” She neared Arcee and spoke so softly, Knock Out had to strain his audials to hear her. “Your sires might know a thing or two about that. Let’s have a little reunion, won’t that be _fun?_ ”

Knock Out watched expressionless as Airachnid, her faceplate so close to Arcee’s, awaited a response. What she received from Arcee was a defiant wad of energon spat at the base of her pedes.

In a flash, Airachnid shot her servo forwards and clenched it around Arcee’s pipes. Taken aback, she gasped in shock. 

“Did we forget what I am capable of?” Airachnid hissed, tightening her hold. “I have you here for as long as I want you. I can have you living in pain for vorns if I like. Maybe then you’ll get a taste of what I went through. Believe me, Arcee, you are right where I want you and I will take _full_ advantage of such a poetic situation.”

Energon seeped from where Airachnid dug her claws. She clamped down harder and Arcee twisted her entire frame. Clearly, she suffered intense agony as her voice box in her pipes would begin to crush. More energon poured from her wounds and Knock Out noticed Arcee’s optics beginning to roll back.

“How selfish,” Knock Out said.

Surprised by his engagement, Airachnid faced him but kept her hold on Arcee. Arcee on the other hand, could hardly move, the strain overwhelming. 

“Jealous?” Airachnid asked.

“A little,” Knock Out responded, “but I’m also becoming a little bored all by myself. You’re not the hostess I imaged you to be.”

“How neglectful of me,” she replied. To Arcee, she mocked, “Don’t go anywhere.” Airachnid tightened her hold again and Arcee gasped once more, struggling to relieve the tension and pain. Laughing at Arcee’s agony, Airachnid pulled back and ran her servos along the chains above Arcee’s helm, causing Arcee to shake back and forth in her bonds. “You’re always being _watched_ ,” and she pointed upwards.

Weak, but with pride, Arcee followed Airachnid’s gaze with her waning strength to witness what she was indicating above her. Knock Out could not share the view from where the camera was positioned, but whatever it was, it caused Arcee to turn her helm away bitterly. Almost like she had just given up. Knock Out desperately wanted to communicate something to her, but found himself at a loss for what to say. Especially with Airachnid listening. Somehow, it didn’t seem like the best timing to say ‘hang in there’.

“If I take too long and you find yourself bored,” Airachnid called to Arcee as she did a flip and transformed into spider mode. “You can always watch a little television!” With that, she utilised all eight of those spider legs and crawled up the wall of Arcee’s prison, vanishing into the darkness. 

Now without Airachnid to distract him, Knock Out found himself having to focus solely on Arcee. Her chains came to rest, and Arcee hanging in her shackles, looked more like a morbid portrait than a video feed. Her helm down, either staring at the ground or no longer able to keep her optics open, Knock Out could not tell. He pitied the Autobot’s condition. Her own energon splattered her frame, the intense blue so striking against the cobalt of her frame. Fresh energon trickled down her helm, collecting in her optics like tears. 

Sympathy arose within Knock Out. Even from this distance, as a doctor, he could judge her labored venting and knew she was fighting with everything she had to cope with the pain. He had a vague notion as to some of Arcee's experiences during the war, having gone through her medical files back at the _Nemesis_ , but nothing ever prepared you for true torture. This was something he knew with certainty from the many victims on his medtable through the years.

Arcee, as strong as she had always proven herself to be, would not able to keep defying Airachnid for much longer. No one could. At some point, her frame would cave and shut down on her. Studying her now, he concluded sadly that she was so near that breaking point. 

Was this really going to be it for them? Was that going to be Knock Out in a few joors? The taste of his own energon around his glossa and wishing inwardly that his spark would just fail? It wasn’t the idea of being tortured that necessarily bothered him, but rather the idea of how this was going to be his end. He had survived the whole stupid war, but would it only be by a few orns? Only to be slain by the bot he had sought out to kill for slaughtering Breakdown? His pride refused to buy into this farce.

The sounds of Airachnid’s sharp legs tapping along the metal prison walls intruded on Knock Out’s thoughts. Glancing up, he could hear the sound encroaching on him, but could not see her through the tunnel of darkness above him. Whether to the left, or to the right, or even when it sounded like he should be able to see her, he was unable to locate her. It was almost like she was invisible. 

Then from the corner of his optic, Airachnid revealed herself. Literally, she slipped out of the shadows. Taken aback by this ability, he had no idea the darkness could shroud her like a cloaking device. 

“Neat little trick, isn’t it?” Airachnid spoke with dignity. “Insecticons wouldn’t have survived our near genocide if it hadn’t been for for our innate ability for survival. The shadows have always served us well.”

“Oh is that why insecticons always skulked in the shadows of the seeker towers?” Knock Out countered with a faux politeness. “I thought it was because your kind was lower than seekers.”

He grinned maliciously when he distinctly noticed Airachnid smile through a repressive snarl. Transforming from her spider mode into her bot mode, she strode towards him, poised with pride. 

“This is one of my favourite parts,” she said, vocaliser stern. “Watching my lippy prey evolve into _that_ after I’m done with them,” and she pointed to Arcee on the video screen. “I didn’t think you cared much for anyone other than yourself, but I won’t hesitate to damage her more if it means I get the information I want out of you, do you understand?”

He would refuse to acknowledge Arcee. It would be in his and Arcee's best interest if he didn't supply Airachnid with any inclination that he cared for the Autobot’s well being. Besides, the image of her so badly beaten was still fresh in his processor. 

“At least make your demands,” Knock Out replied cooly. 

“Well, that’s simple,” Airachnid replied. "I don't know how much you've seen of my little camp out here on Luna 2, but as you can imagine, I don't exactly get the daily news delivered here every morning."

"So you want to know what's going on in the world, that's all?" Knock Out asked. "Well you didn't need to tie us up for that. We could have just chatted over some energon at a friendly get-together."

Airachnid smirked sarcastically at Knock Out's return banter. "That, or we could do all that _and_ have you tied up."

"Whichever you prefer," Knock Out said, a single brow ridge raised.

Airachnid's pedes tapped against the hard metal floor as she neared him. "I prefer to know current events. What madness is happening out there that an Autobot and a Decepticon would inspire one another to work together."

Knock Out smirked with confidence, "I'm looking at the reason why."

"Oh, doctor. You know your flattery doesn't work on me," she teased. "Does Megatron know about your eloping with an Autobot? Surely the ship's doctor going missing would raise a few questions?"

Knock Out made a display of contemplating her question. Eventually, he said, "Whether Megatron knows or not isn't exactly relevant." 

She had been circling Knock Out much like how she had been with Arcee, but at this information, she stopped. Although he could tell she was covering her surprise, she masked it expertly. "Are you telling me you switched sides?" she implored.

"I'm not saying anything of the kind," Knock Out stated. 

"I don't see how Arcee would ever join the Decepticons." She extended a digit and casually touched Knock Out in the centre of his faceplate. "But you, on the other servo," she ran her digit down his faceplate, along his pipes and rested it on the recently embossed Autobrand on his chassis. "You have this little gem right here. Very curious."

"Call it an experiment." He shrugged as much he could in his position. 

"One that involves Megatron still at the forefront of the Decepticon cause?" she asked, leaning into his personal space.

"Are you suggesting someone would dare to overthrow him?" Knock Out responded, faking a laugh. "Perhaps you've spent too much time around Starscream?"

"No more than you. And you're not answering my question." Airachnid's had lost her sense of mock playfulness. 

Knock Out nodded, still avoiding to answer her directly. "I understand you're new to the _Nemesis_ , but I thought it was apparent that only a fool listens to old 'Screamer.”

Snarling in vexation, Airachnid brutally swiped Knock Out across his flawless red paint on his chassis right by his headlights. Gasping in reaction, Knock Out looked down at his damaged paint job, more out of genuine shock than any sort of pain. While the cuts had been deep, no energon was spilt.

"Hey!" he cried out. He had not been expecting her to get violent quite so quickly. That, and any damage to his paint job, caused him panic, whatever the situation. "There's no need for any of that!"

"Then stop trying to mislead me," she snapped. "Tell me how you got here!"

But Knock Out was still assessing his damaged paint job. Displeased with his lack of an answer, Airachnid again placed her digit to his red paint again and he vented a quick breath in distress.

"Tell me!" she hissed.

Knock Out watched as she slowly began to trail her digit along his chassis, slicing through his red paint. Biting his glossa, he vowed that Arcee- no, the Autobots- owed him big time. Whatever happened here on Luna 2, he was clever enough to know that revealing who was in charge of the _Autobots_ \- the fact that Optimus Prime no longer lived- would not help their gradual regrowth of the planet. So even while she continued to trail her digit, cutting in deeper until energon began to surface, he said nothing. 

“What a shame,” Airachnid said, feigning disappointment. “Neither of you seem like in much of a sharing mood." Perhaps she gave another pause to allow for Knock Out to change his decision, but even if she did, he remained silent. She narrowed her optics. "I can’t seem to get either of you to open up and as you can tell by how much you’ve missed during your nap,” she waved a mocking servo at the screen, indicating the mess that was Arcee, “she wasn't very chatty either.”

Knock Out sighed inwardly, if something happened to Arcee here, there wasn’t any way he could return to the Autobots. They would all think he had done something to her, none of them would believe him. Except possibly Ratchet and that was only by a slim margin. Even if he managed to kill Airachnid after all this, a life alone on the run was not appealing.

And then there was that little feeling inside him, a sense of guilt hidden inside his internals. It told him he wouldn’t exactly feel liability free if something did happen to Arcee- seeing as how he convinced her to come. She could take care of herself, Knock Out knew this with no doubt, anyone who had survived the war at this point was awarded this fact. But seeing her strung up, her own energon running all over her, the pain on her faceplate and the defeat in her optics, well, Knock Out felt somewhat responsible. At the very least, he had enjoyed their chat on the way over to Garrus One. 

“But _you_.” Airachnid stepped towards him, caught his attention again and he felt himself twitch involuntarily by her nearness. “I might have something that you might respond to.” She looked above them and called, “Boys… hand me my little present for our guest…”

Knock Out gave a small gasp when he saw narrow red lights reveal themselves above him. Close to twenty of them, he realised as one of them came forwards, that each one was the optics of an insecticon. This must have been what Arcee had seen above her in her cell. All of them were shrouded in the darkness above and all watching their Queen below. The one that crawled out of the depths held something in his mandible. He landed with a thud onto the ground and handed the item to Airachnid with a respective bow. 

Airachnid took the item and patted her minion on the head adoringly. “Thank-you,” she praised it. With the insecticon crawling back to watch the show with the rest, Knock Out realised the monster had handed its mistress an image card of some kind. His curiosity didn’t go by unnoticed by her.

“Don’t worry,” she smirked. “You’ll recognise what I’ve got here. The things is, it actually doesn’t belong to me. I found it awhile back, but-” Airachnid interrupted herself, chuckling. Knock Out narrowed his optics in suspicion. “Okay, you caught me.” She was now so close to him, leaning against his medslab. Everything inside Knock Out told him to kill her. If only he wasn’t chained down. “It’s not so much that I _found_ it as it is it fell into my lap... out of Breakdown’s chassis.”

Knock Out froze. Involuntarily, he felt himself chilled by how her cruel confidence radiated from her. She was absolutely eating this up. Every reaction he gave her, it was foredestined by Airachnid and the words she spun. He could see it all coming but he couldn’t help himself, not with what she held at least. 

“It was such a _mess_ ,” she whispered. “One arm was here, a leg was there… but I'll tell you, I was quite intrigued by this artifact that fell out of his chassis. Never in all my years of hunting and collecting have I stumbled across something quite like this.” 

Knock Out watched as she flipped the image card between her digits. He felt himself disgusted knowing her digits were holding that image card ransom, filthing the memory she held. Yet at the same time, he reluctantly cursed Breakdown. Airachnid didn’t even have to show him the image, there was only one captured memory that Breakdown would have kept inside. Oh, Breakdown, you sentimental fool, he thought. No, he didn’t need to be shown, for Knock Out had the exact same image card in his collection. 

“Now tell me,” Airachnid said, her tone taking a darker turn. “Who is this delightful little bundle of joy in this image card?” She revealed the card, as close as possible to Knock Out’s faceplate. She tapped the bot in question with a digit. “What is the name of this newspark?”

Yes, it was the exact same image card on Knock Out’s berthstand. Knock Out saw himself, only with those cumbersome seeker wings attached to his back. He stood next to Breakdown, looking so similar to how he was before his death, only with a less war-hardened expression. How naive Knock Out felt he was back then, how he smiled with delight at the newspark Breakdown held in his arms. Yes, it was an exact mirror, only Knock Out’s copy had been shattered in the recent end days of the war through an act of one of his rageful and drunken tantrums. Perhaps he once regretted the destruction, but seeing the faceplate of the newspark again and feeling the rush of emotions tied to it, he felt the urge to smash it again.

“Don’t take this personally,” Airachnid threateningly whispered. “This little spark isn’t about you or Breakdown. This oopsie and I go way back.”

Jarred by that statement, Knock Out was completely taken aback. “What are you talking about?” 

Airachnid seemed to have lost her mood for humouring Knock Out and was now reliving a dangerous memory. “I don’t like unfinished business. This is the one that got away during that little mishap all those years ago at the Sparkling Distribution Centre.”

“What?” he repeated. He struggled to recall what had occurred all those years before the war. “You’re saying it was you? _You?_ Why?” The news reports came back to his memory in a rush. “Everyone thought Shockwave blew up his own centre, it was all over the news, he was going to be executed. They removed his head and-”

“A contract,” Airachnid explained heedlessly. “From the higher ups. I thought that would be old news by now. But I know it was Breakdown. I recognised him when I ran into him searching for the polarity gauntlet. Yes, definitely him.”

“What about him?” Knock Out was now too caught up in a fervor for the information Airachnid held to pretend disinterest. Maybe it made him appear weak, but she supplied it to him regardless, the both of them forgetting their roles in this game of information extraction to instead put together the puzzle of the past.

Now, she spoke as if she was reminding herself of what happened. “Breakdown was the bot who found that lone surviving sparkling from the rubble of the explosion,” she said. “I was going to finish them both off all those years ago while he had meandered away from the rest of his clean up crew and discovered the little slip-up, but a certain dual-sword wielding, mask-wearing vigilante interrupted me. He’s on my list too.”

Knock Out kept running everything Airachnid was saying through his processor in addition to what he had known from history to match Airachnid’s sordid details. He knew that if the Distribution Centre had never exploded, whatever the controversy surrounding the reason why, then Breakdown’s construction crew never would have been called in to clean up the mess. And if he hadn’t been out there then he never would have found the sparkling. If Breakdown had never found the sparkling then- But even so, Airachnid had been the start of it all? She had somehow managed to change Knock Out’s life before he had ever known her. 

And who was this other bot that had stopped her from killing Breakdown and the sparkling back at the explosion site? A dual-sword wielding, mask-wearing… could it have been-

“Where,” Airachnid lowered the image card and leaned but a sliver away from Knock Out’s faceplate, “is this _sparkling_. Who is he now?”

Knock Out didn’t even shutter. “Dead.”

Airachnid still smiled.

“No, really.” Knock Out turned to look away and assumed boredom. “Died in the bombings of Iacon during the end of the war.” He looked back at her. “Guess you can cross it off your to-do list.”

They stared at each other, neither of them willing to shutter their optics first. In this communication, Knock Out built a wall of hatred between the two of them, ensuring that all she would now gleam from him, with confidence, was his unyielding and raw fury for her. 

Finally, Airachnid said, “Are you positive that’s the answer you’re going to stick with? Take another long look at Arcee before you decide.”

“Would I lie?” he replied quietly. 

“Yes.”

Knock Out spoke clearly, “Did you see anybot that looked like that newspark on the Nemesis?” He allowed her a moment to respond, when she didn’t, he continued, “No. You didn’t. Why would Breakdown carry that if it still lived?” He noticed her slide her optics downward to sneak a look at the image. “Because it’s dead. Unfortunately, you will have to find other means to come to terms with your ‘unfinished business’.”

Again, they stared at each other fiercely, each evaluating the other and both searching for some kind of an answer.

“We’ll see about that.” Airachnid spoke, “With no means for me to get off this moon, then I have all the time in the galaxy. Unless you want to tell me how you got here?”

Only a wave of hatred emanating from Knock Out would be her answer.

“No?" She didn't even leave any gap for Knock Out to respond even if he was willing. "Didn't think so," she turned her back on him. "These are very few, very simple questions."

When she turned around, she sauntered straight for him. Curious what she would attempt next, he watched as Airachnid ran her sharp digit along his chassis just under his pipes, slicing through his metal exterior and drawing a blue tear of energon. He didn't flinch. Airachnid allowed a droplet of his energon to tease at the end of her digit before allowing it to drop on the ground between them. 

Ah so it was torture time, was it? Knock Out was quite familiar with this procedure. Well, if she was expecting him to roll over and sob, she would be in for a surprise. 

But she understood this right away. "No... you don't respond to that kind of pain, do you, doctor?" Airachnid posed this as a question but her tone said that she already knew the answer. "Physical pain," she continued, "It's not something you fear like other bots." She inclined her head at Arcee on the video. "You're made of a different kind of stuff, you are a Decepticon after all. And you have a reputation," she cast him a knowing look. "A reputation for... enjoying your line of work perhaps a smidge too much."

Knock Out smirked in response. "What can I say," he said loftily then added bluntly, "I am a sadist."

"Yes," Airachnid agreed, pretending to look lost in thought. "What to do when one sadist wants to torture another? If physical pain is ineffective then I suppose one must resort to other means of pain."

"Alright," Knock Out said, never taking his optics off her as she strolled leisurely around the room. "Tell me the joke. What does one sadist do to another?"

She ignored him. "We must find other means of pain."

Knock Out rolled his optics. "Sounds like foreplay."

"Oh I already know," Airachnid replied, now approaching him. "Yes, I know something that will not just pain you, but drive you _crazy_."

Their faceplates were now nearly touching in their closeness. Knock Out refused to shutter his optics, they had now entered an intense staring contest. Not only did he refuse to shutter, but he refused to wipe the smirk off his face despite his growing concern. 

Without even witnessing her lift a servo, he felt her digit tap lightly on his helm. "Mental anguish," she deduced, venting the words on his faceplate. "That's your poison and I know which specifically to make you heave in pain." 

He said nothing.

"No witty response?" Airachnid called him out. "No ego-centric remark to egg me on? No? Oh dear, I guess I spoiled it." She pulled back and stood before him. "You must have already guessed, you're too clever for me." And slowly but sinisterly, a smile spread on Airachnid's faceplate. 

Knock Out could feel the anger begin to build inside him. She was right, she spoiled it. He really did only have one weakness and she had revealed that she knew what it was not within their chat, not today, but many orns ago. The tension was beginning to suffocate Knock Out, he could feel it in his pipes. For now that they both knew what it was and he needed her to say it out loud. As much as he loathed it, he couldn’t have it dangle in front of him any longer. The anticipation of what was already known was too much for him. Even so, he fought so valiantly to keep it shrouded from her. 

"Breakdown," she stated simply.

Knock Out felt his digits curl in instinctive anger. The urge to become violent was rising within him.

"Of course, I killed him." She did not move. Airachnid stood perfectly still, perfectly poised. Her very presence mocking him even without even using any words. "But that's not what _really_ gets you, is it? That's not what's making you tremble, making you quiver and rage, is it?"

"Shut up," he vented the words.

Airachnid's insecticon optics lit up with amusement. The grin of hers spread larger, evidently basking in the response to the pain she was inflicting. 

"No," she fell into a dramatic whisper. "It's not that I killed him that torments you." Cruelly, Airachnid began to laugh. "It's that I fragged him!"

Out of the corner of his optics, he thought he saw Arcee react with shock on the video screen. But he was too furious to even fully acknowledge her. He could barely even hear Airachnid’s dizzying laughter, each laugh a slap to his faceplate. But he didn’t care because all that now flooded his audio receptors was just noise, the noise of rage. All the memories rushed forwards teasing him relentlessly saying ‘remember me?’, joining in Airachnid’s delight. 

As much as Knock Out pretended it never happened, or that it had all been resolved, he knew it was only a pretty lie. A quaint little delusion to better comfort himself in the truth of Breakdown’s death. A way to say ‘at least’. ‘At least’ we talked about it, ‘at least’ he said this and that, and ‘at least’ it was out in the open. But ’at least’ was an illusion because that wasn’t how things ended with Breakdown, _at least_ , not for Knock Out.

No matter what he told himself, he was still furious and he had still not forgiven Breakdown. He had not then and he could not now. Airachnid was correct, it was his poison and it stung just as severely as it did the day he found out. It drowned him every day since, the notion that this was a fact that could not be denied, no matter how much he buried it with daily thoughts or hi-grade energon. 

But Breakdown had died. What was supposed to be a coming resolution between them about his affair was now an open story with no ending. There was no way for Knock Out to resolve it on his own or come to terms. It left him confused and angry. Yes, there was so much anger. 

This anger latched itself like a parasite directed at Airachnid and Knock Out used this to fuel a direction in his life. She stood before him, continually laughing and Knock Out continually found himself radiating with hate. He would kill her. The thought repeated itself in his processor, deafening him to everything around him.

“Look at you!” Airachnid practically beamed with pleasure. “Arcee, dear, are you seeing this too?” 

Arcee was no longer a broken doll. She stared at the camera on her side of the video, shock and concern on her faceplate. Along with everything Knock Out felt about the issue, now embarrassment tangled itself with the rest of his emotions. It was an emotion he rarely felt, and when he did, it only made him all the more enraged.

“Yes, I think we can work with this,” Airachnid’s vocaliser, flowing and flowery, penetrated his thoughts and he hissed silently at her impertinence to continue the conversation. She persisted, “I always knew the two of you were more than just doctor and assistant. I could always tell, in the way he would look at you. Do you remember when you…” she paused to indulge in another delectable laugh, “How funny it is to say now! But when you _removed_ me from Breakdown after the mishap with the polarity gauntlet? Yes, it was then.” 

Knock Out recalled that memory vividly. It was the first time he had met the femme. He had his reservations about her even then, even the innocence of the two being stuck together back to back had struck his ire. Who was this new addition to the Nemesis? he had wondered at the time. Breakdown had been so hostile towards her in the medbay. Although he and the spider-bot had just had an altercation together, their immediate dislike for one another had calmed any suspicions in Knock Out. That, and he made sure to stand and walk strategically to distract Breakdown while he worked.

Airachnid spoke calmly. “It was in the all-too casual tone in which he’d talk to you, the way he’d watch you from the corner of his optic when you would walk away or just that lingering touch that lasted an astrosecond too long. It was all very revealing.” She paused, then smirked sarcastically. “Besides, what self-respecting Decepticon has a ‘partner’ anyway? We’d all stab each other in the back if we could.”

Perhaps their charade of doctor and assistant had not been enough to convince Airachnid, but it had protected them well throughout the war. It had ensured their survival and kept them together for what had almost lasted the entire war. So close, he had told Arcee. They had been so close to both making it out alive. Everything they had dealt with, everything they had to do to survive, it had almost all been worth it. It had only taken one bot, one femme, in the end days to see through their roles and decide to destroy them for no other means than her own enjoyment.

But what she said next jerked him violently from the thoughts that attempted to mask him from her mockery. It was another stab, right into his spark. A shard of anger thrust itself into him when she said, “Do you know what Breakdown said to me during our time together?” 

Knock Out felt his mouthplate curl into a snarl and he could no longer hold himself back. Within his bonds, his claws curled, yearning to slice through Airachnid’s pipes. No, this was enough. He had already hit maximum suffering for this conversation. The torture, it was enough. She was right, she found what he would crumble to and he was done. This was worse, far worse, than any physical pain she could inflict on him. He had lost all reasoning and any measure to cope. He was done and in misery. If she brought this up again, Knock Out might fail completely.

Airachnid scanned Knock Out’s reaction. “I guess you don’t know..? Would it surprise you to know he expressed… in _many ways_ … how much he missed the touch… the _feel_ of a femme?”

“Liar!” he spat. 

No, not this. Was this what real torture felt like? She was going too far and his torment overwhelmed his senses. The laughter that followed from Airachnid drove Knock Out to a dizzying madness. He felt his optics glitch and blur from the crude fire that burned inside. It wasn't just simple anger of what had happened that fueled him, but the embarrassment of it too. He felt his faceplate flush as energon rushed to his helm. 

Viciously, she continued her onslaught and he desired desperately to cave onto the floor in a heap. “He was so _excited!_ I could feel it as he ran his servos all over my frame, he left nothing unexplored. I heard him vent heavily by my audials and I felt his frame shudder against mine as he thrust into me over and over and over... Like he hadn’t interfaced in _vorns_.”

“That’s not true!!” Knock Out yanked himself as hard as he could against his bonds in a failed struggle to launch himself at her. He attempted over and over to transform his servos into his saws or drill but they locked with each endeavor by the technology within the bonds strapping him down. 

“Does it fluster you, doctor? Look at me,” she reached out and even though Knock Out fought to resist her touch, she clutched his faceplate within her servos. “Breakdown _devoured_ me in passion. I was irresistible to him. Look.” She guided his gaze forcefully with her servo, slowly, to observe her frame from top to bottom. “Do you know what he said?” she whispered, leaning in closer, her claws creating slices on his faceplate. Knock Out winced but refused to look away from her. “When he finished, after he experienced a most powerful overload, he leaned over me, and said… _listen_ … he said he always liked femmes best.”

His optics glitched again and he screamed, “LIAR!”

“You consider yourself such a prize, doctor!” she continued to laugh. “But just like poor Arcee, you can’t hang onto a mech. But at least she doesn’t have any disillusioned grandeur about her prowess as you do!” Slowly, Airachnid advanced towards him. “What a travesty you are. What a pitiful Decepticon. Why did you choose our side? Because you enjoy whipping around your boy toy every now and then? Please, you’re far off better an Autobot with all these emotions you carry. Beneath all that carnauba wax, you’re nothing but a _joke!'_ ”

Her laughter ran through him, it ran through the entire room, booming and shaking him. It made him feel like everything about him was a joke, something Knock Out never felt. He had lost control of his situation and was unable to compose himself any longer. 

" _I'm going to kill you!_ " he shouted, shaking in his bonds. "I'm going to mutilate you and tear you apart! I'm going to slice through your frame as you watch! I am going to make you suffer slowly and-" 

“No, doctor. _I'm_ going to kill _you_ ,” Airachnid whispered. Her plush mouthplate a mere width away from his. “I’m going to kill you in front of Arcee so she can watch another one of her many partners die. It’s nothing personal, no, not about you at all. It’s about her and what her sires did to me. Breakdown was a convenient toy and you a passing gratification. I could keep you around to gleam more about this newspark, but I’m afraid my interest in Arcee is top priority. What I need now is for Arcee to feel the guilt as your energon pours from your body. I want her to blame herself. I want her to _suffer_.”

His spark thudded against his spark chamber within his chassis, feeling like it was trying to lodge itself into his pipes and vomit it up. He could see his own red optics reflect off of Airachnid’s and he passionately wished they could sear her very faceplate.

“It’s funny,” she smirked. Her purple optics almost entrancing in a predatory way. “I fragged Breakdown assuming he had a sparkbond with you. I thought I’d sit back and watch the fun as the two of you fall apart. But I guess I was wrong.” 

Then what Airachnid said next stunned Knock Out to his very spark. The whole room fell silent and in this instant, they were the only two bots in existence. Arcee wasn’t there. The insecticons were not there. It was only the two of them. Time would stop and the world would flip upside down. Airachnid placed one servo right over Knock Out’s chassis, right on top of his spark chamber and said softly: 

“If you had a sparkbond with Breakdown, then you would have known his spark still exists.”

Knock Out’s eyes shot open at the realisation of this statement, but he didn’t even have the time to process it—

“ _KNOCK OUT!_ ”

He had barely heard Arcee scream, for his optics widened further and dilated from the the shock of having Airachnid’s claws pierce his frame. He upheaved his own energon, blotching the ground with a thick splat. She wrenched her claws in further and more energon overflowed from both his fresh wound as well as his mouthplate. His body caved in his bonds and he felt his spark twist from the agony. His spark struggled to survive despite beginning to fade.

Knock Out fought to focus his optics, but they were already blurring. He could see a blue haze in the distance, he could hear Arcee screaming something at him, although what she was saying, his audial receptors were no longer processing. He felt Airachnid’s claws slip out of him and felt the wet, slippery energon that was his own blood rest on his shoulder as Airachnid rested her servo there and leaned next to him.

“I stashed his spark somewhere hidden,” she said simply. “It’s a shame I can’t do the same for yours. Good night, doctor. Sleep well wherever you go… alone.”

And it was that purple haze of her optics that carried him into oblivion.

 

_**(The Flashback. . . During the War)** _

_“Oh my, I thought you were aware, doctor.” Her voice was dripping with false lusciousness. “I just assumed… I mean, he didn’t seem to hesitate at all. In fact, he was quite eager.”_

_Knock Out refused to acknowledge her, but every word felt like one of her eight legs stabbing into his spark. He hid his servos in front of him, pretending to occupy himself with some of his tools. But he dared not pick one up, knowing his servos would tremble and then she would know of her success for certain. He struggled to compose himself, running his glossa over his mouthplate._

_“Sweetspark,” he began cooly, “I may be your doctor, but if it doesn’t relate to why you’re here, then you don’t need to share it. I’m a medical doctor, not a psychologist.”_

_Airachnid tilted her head in a mock innocence. Glitch. “I thought the information might be relevant.” She looked to the insectoid appendage Knock Out had just repaired. She flexed it in a test of its mobility. “He was really rough with all of them.” She faced the doctor. “He was very unruly.”_

_Knock Out held her gaze, determined to not crack despite the rage building inside. “Then perhaps you should suggest to him to practice some self control.” Before Airachnid could say anything else, he finished with, “You are free to go.”_

_Airachnid smiled, displaying those barbaric insecticon fangs. Knock Out curled his mouthplate in disgust at the sight of hers._

_“If that’s the doctor’s orders."_

_“Goodbye, Airachnid.”_

 

He heard the door to their suite open and close. The muted lumbering of large pedes walking over the metal floor came next. He refused to look. From what he could hear, Breakdown was heading towards their mini bar and was pouring himself a drink. After the sounds of him taking a long swig of energon, there came a long, slow vent.

Preparing himself, Knock Out, too, took a little sip of his hi-grade energon.

Breakdown trudged to the bench and sat himself down heavily. Out of the corner of his optics, Knock Out could see him staring at his mug of energon and spinning the liquid around casually. Nothing would be casual about this work break. 

Refusing to acknowledge Breakdown, Knock Out stared at the screen on the wall. The images of humans acting out a scene of a serial killer on the hunt for his next prey played before him, but he barely saw any of it. His processor was too preoccupied by what was to come.

Finally: “Watcha watching?”

“A movie," Knock Out replied.

Breakdown exuded another vent before placing his mug on the table in front of them. “I wanna talk.”

“Go on.”

Breakdown paused. “I know, I, uh, I screwed up.” There was a pause. “So let’s talk about that.”

“Alright then,” Knock Out replied. He conveyed control over his emotions by keeping his vocaliser as neutral as possible. It was not an easy task. “When were you going to tell me?”

Leaning back in the bench, the frame of it shook from Breakdown’s weight. “I dunno, Knock Out. I wanted it to go away. I didn’t want you to find out.”

“Ah,” Knock Out said, keeping his optics on the human stabbing the other multiple times with a blade. “So it would have just gone away if I pretended I didn’t know, I presume.”

He could feel the bench shift as Breakdown reacted uncomfortably to his comment. “Uh, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then, by all means, speak. You were the one who said you wanted to talk.” Knock Out could feel himself becoming curt. ‘Curt Knock Out’ meant there was already a rage underneath and that by this point, it was too late to try and calm him down. Breakdown had been with Knock Out long enough to know this by now.

“Well, I knew you weren’t gonna like it,” Breakdown vented a sigh then took another long sip of energon. He was probably wishing he had chosen the hi-grade by now. When he looked at Knock Out again, he would be startled to see Knock Out was finally looking at him with those slicing optics of his.

Knock Out knew how to manipulate his gaze when it came to Breakdown. He knew just the right seductive look to have him succumb to his desires. But now, the look Knock Out sent was not one even he could control. There was that raw fury within them and yet there was something else as well that he could not hold back. It was not a look that held power, rather it was one that conveyed betrayal.

“I didn’t want you to get upset,” Breakdown repeated himself, his stress beginning to show.

“What a silly thought,” Knock Out’s mouthpate curled. “Me being _upset_ over _that_.”

The anxiety was showing on Breakdown. “You are. Frag, I just wanted to save you from feeling this way, that’s all. Come on…”

“How gallant,” Knock Out sneered.

Breakdown said nothing.

“Fragging behind my back and not telling me.”

Again, Breakdown said nothing. He went from looking at the remaining energon in his mug to staring at the floor between his pedes.

Knock Out continued to mock, “How admirable of you.”

“Stop.”

Verbal fighting with one another was not something either bot was used to. In all their millions of years together, only a servo-full of arguments could be weighed like the one they were having now. It felt alien, as if neither was quite sure what to say, what to express or what extent to take their emotions. The emotions themselves were a foreign twisted mess that neither of them knew what to do with but toss them between one another like an overheated piece of metal. 

“I feel guilty,” Breakdown rasped. He lifted his massive servos and held his helm in them. “Maybe… maybe I was gonna tell you but I didn’t want it to happen like this. I didn’t know how to say it, I had to figure it out some. Let’s just… do this. Cut the attitude.”

“My attitude?” Knock Out replied.

Breakdown looked up at him and Knock Out felt incredulous at how he could have such a hurt expression on his faceplate. How dare he! Knock Out thought, how dare he look like the one who had been wounded from this. The outrage must have been showing for Breakdown looked like he was about to try and calm him down. Fatal move on his part.

“Okay, no _attitude_. Then you don’t get to sidestep any issue.” Knock Out spoke, his vocaliser raising with each word he spoke. “So explain this to me, because I would love a refresher, how do you get to break a _rule_ and think you can sweep it under the bench?”

Breakdown was a master at silence.

“Did you not think I would be angry!?” Knock Out shouted. “Do you not see the _irony!?_ ”

“I know. I get it,” Breakdown responded.

Still, Knock Out could no longer contain his himself and he pushed more. “‘Get it’!? They were your rules to begin with! I try so fragging hard to follow them. You’re the one who said you wanted this to be an exclusive partnership. I frag up, and I’m in trouble. But you? You want some sort of a free pass for being a first time offender? That’s a riot!”

Breakdown shifted again and anxiously rubbed his servos on his legs. “Yeah, ok, I know,” he responded, not making optic contact. “Being exclusive, it was never a problem before. For me, I mean. I don’t think of them as rules. Why do you always gotta put it that way? ‘Rules’,” he made a sound of disdain, “They're not rules, Knock Out, it’s just common sense.”

Knock Out made a snarl noise deep within his vocaliser. “Of which you are apparently no longer in possession of! Breakdown, we’ve sparkmerged and you’ve seen who I am. If I… ‘lose my common sense’, I usually tell you. But don’t act like you don’t enjoy that though. You like knowing how other bots want me.” He paused, in eager hopes to hear some praise that Breakdown was so good at delivering.

Instead, Breakdown shook his helm. “Like it? Fraggin’ pisses me off, that’s what.” Surprised by the response, Knock Out covered his shock by giving him a superior cocky grin that only pushed Breakdown’s anger further. “Think I like seeing you flirt with other bots and them thinkin’ they got a chance with you? Huh.”

“Well,” Knock Out continued to grin, only making Breakdown scowl further, “you’re always more… _fun…_ in berth with me after I do flirt with somebot else.” Breakdown defiantly said nothing. More seriously, Knock Out continued, “At least you have the assurance knowing that’s as far as I take things. You know that, when you stand there and watch me flirt. That despite what I’m saying, I stay exclusive.”

“’Cept you said ‘usually’,” Breakdown responded, fishing for his empty mug angrily.

Grin gone, Knock Out narrowed his optics. “I try. You’re important.”

Breakdown finally looked at Knock Out and he felt himself become flushed. 

“Just important?” Breakdown grumbled.

“Not just. I always put you first,” Knock Out continued, feelings of bitterness rising. “Even over my own nature in my spark. You call it common sense, but I see it very differently than you do. Attention and physical contact with others does not manipulate how strongly I will always feel for you.” He regarded Breakdown, watching him stand next to the bench. “You make it sound as if one must have feelings for those they come into a close connection with. Are you honestly trying to tell me you have these feelings for A-”

“ _No._ ” Breakdown looked away and clenched his servos, irritation building. He stumbled on his words before being able to say, “No and you know that. I just… did the same thing you’ve done before. But that doesn't make it right. That’s why you’re pissed and I don’t feel too hot about it either, okay?”

“Then what happened?” Knock Out pressed. “Why did you slip up and break your precious rules?”

This is where Breakdown offered no response. His silence drove Knock Out insane, he felt himself begin to shake with anger. He hated himself for completely losing his emotions like this. Knock Out knew himself to be so in control, to be able to manage his anger. But this time, it was different. Not only was it his lover who had cheated on him, but, as he realised it now, it was the circumstance of the affair that rendered Knock Out incapable of holding back.

And that circumstance was that Airachnid… was a _femme_.

“The first femme you’ve seen in a couple thousand vorns and you need to go frag her.” There. He had finally said it out loud.

They looked at each other. This time, they really looked at one another. Breakdown hunched himself back onto the bench and Knock Out, sitting next to him, locked optics and they both knew this information was going to surface eventually. It was inevitable and the longer they stared at one another, the more it sunk in and the more it sunk in, the more Knock Out felt like falling apart.

“Knock Out,” Breakdown finally spoke, his vocaliser low. “It wasn’t like that at all.”

They continued to stare at each other, neither moving.

“Not… not like what?" Knock Out sneered, "Are you trying to tell me you didn’t frag her?”

Breakdown opened his mouthplate to say something, paused, then said. “No. I know what I did. I interfaced with her. I did.”

Somehow, hearing Breakdown lay it out, actually saying it, seemed to cut into his spark deeper than before. He felt himself begin to vent heavily and feel somewhat on the faint side. He forced himself to stand and stumbled back slightly. Breakdown made a move as if to catch him, but Knock Out raised a servo to resist.

“Why…” Knock Out mumbled, speaking softly to himself. Breakdown must have heard, he heard him take a step forwards. “Why her?” he continued to speak to himself, as if delirious. “Why her? Why a femme? A-Am I…”

“Come on,” Breakdown persisted, standing up. “You’re gorgeous.”

Recoiling, Knock Out slammed a palm to his chassis. “Oh, _I_ know I’m gorgeous. _Everybot_ knows I’m gorgeous- but do _you?_ ”

Looking incredulous, Breakdown floundered, “Of course! Babe, you’re stunning. You know I can’t resist you, I tell you that all the time.”

“You know what you also can’t resist? A fragging femme, that’s what,” Knock Out hissed, stepping back. “Frag, I knew you always liked them more. Even back when we first met- you’ve been with more femmes than you have with mechs-”

“-What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything!” Knock Out shook his helm, trying to convince himself of a truth he did not want to accept. “I could always tell you’d rather frag a femme. Is that why we're so compatible? Is that why our roles-"

“Hey!" Breakdown shot back. “I think I know what makes you overload!” He threw his servos up in the air. “I screwed up! Don’t… don’t make this about what we do together. It has nothing to do with anything. Your frame is irresistible to me. I’ve told you before I can’t resist you, ain’t no femme got what you got.”

“Why?" Knock Out persisted urgently, "Why’d you do it?”

Again, Breakdown shook his helm. “It’s not good enough.”

“Why not?!” There was an answer and Knock Out couldn't continue without knowing.

The silence in the room was booming. Both of them felt engulfed in it.

“I said,” Breakdown gazed at his partner mournfully. “My answer isn’t good enough. It never will be.”

Knock Out placed a servo to his audio receptors, “I didn’t hear the answer.”

Breakdown rolled his optic. “You were never around anymore, Knock Out. Ever since we came to this ship. You were always going out on drives without even telling me. Sure, we’ve interfaced, but we haven’t even sparkmerged since we arrived." He looked down, around, anywhere than at Knock Out. "You’re either in the medbay, or hanging around Starscream or off street-racing. I just…” They met optics. “I’m sorry.”

“How dare you.”

They stared at each other.

Knock Out repeated himself. “No, how dare you.” His blank, emotionless faceplate slowly turned into one of disgust. “You _dare_ accuse _me_ of being the reason you fragged a femme? I was always around!!" He felt himself begin to seethe, to feel that rage overcome his entire frame. Knock Out needed that rage, because if he didn't have it, then all he would feel was embarrassment. "Just because we weren’t glued to the hip didn’t mean I wasn’t around! It’s like you said, we interfaced since we’ve been here! Was that enough? Or was it because a femme came on board and suddenly I was ‘been there, done that’?!”

Without waiting for a response, Knock Out spun around and headed for his berthroom. He couldn’t cope with this anymore. The reason of Breakdown’s affair had come out and Knock Out knew he didn’t believe a word he had just said to Breakdown. Because Breakdown was right and Knock Out knew it. Guilt had started to release itself inside him like a broken dam and it consumed him like a disease. Disgusted with the emotion, Knock Out felt no other choice but to flee into his room and head to his vanity where he knew he could find the cure.

“I-I’m not blaming you!” Breakdown called after him.

He had just sat down in his seat when he heard the door _whoosh_ open again as Breakdown followed after him. Knock Out stared at his reflection. Perfection stared back. He was perfect in every way, but somehow, Knock Out had let everything around him fall apart. He sat there, his red metallic paint still gleaming underneath the spotlight in the ceiling. He glowed and Knock Out found himself entranced by his own allure. How could he be so beautiful but feel so broken?

“I am under so much _pressure_ on this stupid ship. We’re stuck on here, there’s no way we can get off without being labeled as deserters with targets on our back,” Knock Out spat. “You _know_ I hate being confined, you know it drives me up the wall!”

“I know,” Breakdown shot back, struggling to calm his partner down. “Every time you’re under some sort of stress like this at some base, that’s when you—”

“I _what?_ ” Knock Out jeered.

Breakdown flustered for words, “When you get loose. With us. I know, I… I thought because you were under that stress again and you were hanging out with Starscream and disappearing again that you and him were—”

“No!” Knock Out interrupted, “When we arrived on this ship, I was supposed to revive Megatron- _Megatron himself!_ " He gripped the vanity counter as the stress and pressure overrode him again. "At least, that’s what I was _told_ I was supposed to do." He looked directly at Breakdown. "I had Starscream saying heal him with Soundwave monitoring my every move and as soon as that Crystal City whore left the room, Starscream was telling me to kill Megatron! You know that’s the reason he chose us for this job? Because of my reputation for operation ‘accidents’? Kill Megatron, don’t kill Megatron,” Knock Out waved a servo, “What do I do? I’m stuck on this clausterphobic ship with dead if I do, dead if I don’t options and now this _glitch_ comes on board and you… you are no longer by my side! So _do_ forgive me for not feeling much sympathy for you, dear Breakdown.”

Breakdown fell silent but at least he didn’t look away. “Sounds like more pressure than we’ve ever been under before in this war.”

“ _Yes,_ ” Knock Out replied, “but I never cheated here despite that!”

“I get it.”

“You- you say when I’m under stress, that’s when I need… attention.” He looked at his own reflection, studying his features. “Lots of attention. And I needed it more than ever on this ship but I only ever sought it from you, this I promise you.” He turned to face Breakdown. “I take those drives to cleanse myself- of the walls of this ship, from Starscream and Soundwave, from myself and what I supposedly- okay, yes, what I do when I am under pressure- I take those drives so I don’t ever do that again to you. I know it hurt you when I did in the past.” Knock Out choked on his vocaliser before saying, “How can you experience that hurt and then do it to me when I needed you the most?”

“I’m sorry.”

“And then to throw it in my faceplate more, you… you double the hurt by being with a femme. A fragging femme of all bots…” And he slammed his servos onto the vanity, digging his claws as deeply as he could into the surface. He felt his whole frame shake from the indignity of it.

“Knock Out.” He felt Breakdown rest a gentle servo on his shoulder. Still angry, he tensed involuntarily from the touch but did not shake him off. “I’m dual. I can’t change that.”

Knock Out refused to look up, he kept his gaze firmly down.

“You never liked to hear it," he heard Breakdown say, "that I like both.”

Still, Knock Out refused to respond.

“Why?” Breakdown continued.

Why? Why did Breakdown have to push him like this? Knock Out was struggling so hard to keep his emotions inside.

When he didn’t respond, Breakdown persisted, “Why does it bother you to know that about me? You can never accept that I’m not one way like you.”

“Because everybot wants me!” Knock Out exploded. “I am _gorgeous!_ I could have anybot I wanted,” he snarled. “But I want _you_ ,” and he turned to look up at Breakdown who shadowed him. “We’ve been together through the war and even back on Cybertron, even when I still had wings- I left my trine for you- I’ve always wanted nobot but you. For all these years and… and for all these years I _need_ you to want me more than any other bot! I _am_ the best and I have to be _your_ best!"

Knock Out felt his whole frame burn with embarrassment. Surely every part of him was now a bright glow revealing how embarrassed he felt from admitting such a deep truth about himself. What would Breakdown think of him then? He sounded desperate, he sounded as if… as if he wasn’t in control or that his power in their relationship had been nothing but a false bravado.

Servos still shaking, he reached for the canister of hi-grade energon on the vanity and began to pour himself a full drink with the glass he always kept in his room. But before he could lift it, Breakdown’s large digits gently wrapped around his delicate glass. Cautious yet quickly, he slipped it out of Knock Out’s grasp and current reach.

“You don’t need that right now,” Breakdown said softly. Knock Out barely registered him swiping the hi-grade canister in one fluid motion, like a slight of hand trick he had mastered through timeless experience.

He could feel Breakdown’s optics on him. Now he felt even more exposed, with nothing to hide behind. He was felt as if Breakdown could see through him, see how weak and false he was. But that wasn’t true, Knock Out knew this. His default self exuded confidence without even thinking, it was a part of who he was, it was in his very spark

Then where did this desperation originate from? The rage behind his optics began to fade the longer he looked into Breakdown’s. That lone yellow optic that still had the ability to lure Knock Out into a calmer state. Something no other bot could ever claim to do to him. It was such a soothing yellow that he felt himself nearly hypnotised. What Knock Out found even more stirring about this ability of Breakdown’s, was that he didn’t even seem aware he had such a power over Knock Out. Knock Out was aware of how he could use his optics as weapons to lure Breakdown, but Breakdown was able to do the same with his and he didn’t know it.

It was within that yellow optic that Knock Out found the answer for his desperation. For why he needed to be so adored by this one mech out of all other mechs in the galaxy and why it brought Knock Out to such a wreck of a being to know Breakdown had done to him. Absolutely stripped, Knock Out felt as if his own spark was exposed. He could feel it pulse against his spark chamber, yearning for all of this to be nothing but a nightmare. It whispered to him what he knew he needed to say. Something he didn’t say enough lately, but felt it every time he looked into that yellow.

“Knock Out,” Breakdown said, his voice a low soothing rumble. Such a familiar sound that Knock Out felt he could listen to forever. “I love you more than you know right now.”

Knock Out felt his frame shudder and his back arch from the sheer pleasure of Breakdown stroking his bio-lights on the back of his neck. Opening his optics slowly, still feeling the intense feeling, he noticed Breakdown had knelt down before him, so they were on optic level. Surprised, he felt Breakdown tip the crown of his helm to rest against Knock Out’s.

“Just because I like both, doesn’t mean I want femmes more than you.” He felt himself begin to melt against the touch. “You’re beautiful,” he barely heard Breakdown whisper. Knock Out's optics began to haze over from the sweet pets on his lights and the praise of his appearance. Two of Knock Out’s favourite things.

“Of course I am,” Knock Out whispered back, leaning into the touch. He heard a quiet chuckle.

“Yeah, everybot wants you, I know,” Breakdown replied, his vocaliser deepening. “Pretty thing like you, makin’ everybot overheat. What am I supposed to do?”

Knock Out grinned, pressing his faceplate closer to his lover’s, nuzzling him in an affectionate instinct. “Do I make you jealous?” Knock Out asked playfully.

He heard Breakdown chuckle deviously and felt his large arms wrap themselves greedily around Knock Out’s waist. Breakdown seized him in a forceful tug.

“Quit being such a flirt,” Breakdown smirked, pressing his own faceplate close to Knock Out’s, trying to kiss him. “You drive me crazy you know that?”

But Knock Out resisted Breakdown’s advances, absolutely rolling in the pleasure of being so adored and craved. Being so strongly desired made Knock Out’s confidence begin to soar and he yearned for more. Feeling Breakdown push against him, knowing that his vigorous actions came from a place of desire, a desire for how alluring Knock Out was, ignited a passion inside him.

Optics still shut, he felt the soft touch of Breakdown’s mouthplate pressing against his. He opened his optics slightly to see Breakdown kissing him gently. Emotions beginning to rush inside him, he fought internally between kissing back which would reveal how much he needed Breakdown for support in that moment, and kissing passively in hopes to exude he was in control of himself. In the end, he slipped his glossa between Breakdown’s mouthplate and for a more lustful joining.

When Breakdown parted, he sat back, staring at all of Knock Out in front of him. He vented an exhausted sigh. “I didn’t get with Airachnid because I think she’s hotter than you. I was lonely and hot for you. You weren’t around so I got stupid and fragged her because she was comin’ onto me.”

So close to one another, they stared deep into one another’s optics, feeling the wave of venting air that exuded from their mouthplates. Breakdown had Knock Out. He was not only listening, but he was being recipient. It was everything Knock Out needed to hear, and it was the truth. He only had to believe it. There was a part of him that wanted to resist it to push Breakdown away and power down in separate rooms. But then there was the other half of him that needed this, that wanted to cling to Breakdown and never let go.

“That’s how it happened,” Breakdown said. “I shouldn’t have, I know. But that’s how it is and I wanna take it all back.” He paused, conveying a strained expression. “I can’t. So I’m tellin’ you, I’m sorry. I hate what I did, but I hate seeing you upset even more. I know you and I know you should never be like this. This isn't Knock Out. And… and I hate that I’m the reason.”

Knock Out regarded him and everything he expressed, both verbally and emotionally.

“I love you,” Breakdown repeated. Hearing him say that was akin to when he would stroke his neck. “Now come on, we’re both done from today."

That familiar Knock Out smirk playfully showed itself. “Oh, so you think I'm that easy, do you?"

Breakdown rolled his optics, grinning flirtatiously. "So what would make you happy?" he asked, moving closer. He sat up on his knees and placed his servos on Knock Out's legs. He leaned in, trying to steal another kiss. "You wanna punish me?" and he chuckled, running his servos further along Knock Out inner legs.

"Hmm," Knock Out responded thoughtfully. He leaned away from Breakdown, taking pleasure in his frustration. "No, not that." He took pride in how Breakdown looked disappointed.

Standing up, Knock Out leaned over Breakdown, cupping his chinguard in his servos. Knock Out entranced him with his fiery red optics. "I want you," he vented lightly, watching Breakdown tremble from excitement, "to lavish me. If you crave me more than anything as you say, then prove it. Show me, big bot, show me and lavish me." 

And without granting him another look, Knock Out sauntered past his sparkmate and over to his berth knowing with satisfaction that he wouldn't even reach it before Breakdown would be on him.

 

Knock Out didn’t realise how much he ached until he attempted to stand up. As soon as he had hoisted himself up off his berth, he instantly felt the pain in his lower regions. Groaning, he sat back down on the berth with a thunk. Gripping the edge, he tried to recall the events before his power down.

Processor fighting through the fog of having just awoken, he started to recall bursts of their lovemaking. Yes, Breakdown had done an amazing job at lavishing Knock Out. Sure, he would give it to him. He had been on him before Knock Out had reached the berth, that he had been right about. Passionately, Breakdown had pleasured his lover, making sure to show him just how much Knock Out was loved, consuming him with his desire.

As they had laid there in the berth together after overloading, they began to talk. More than just sweet nothings, they spoke of more than just how they felt about one another, but recalled memories too. Joyful ones, painful ones, they recalled much of their shared life together and Knock Out felt confident laying next to his conjux endura, his sparkmate. They laughed and whispered things that only they knew and not before long, not knowing who had spurred it first, they were kissing again.

Which had quickly turned to another lustful joining where Breakdown had Knock Out in a prurient position again. That specific tryst, Knock Out had difficulty remembering.

Looking at the berth, he realised Breakdown wasn’t there. Without even thinking, his spark pulsed with a brief surge of anxiety. But reason took over quickly and told him it wasn’t likely, after all Breakdown had said, that he was off rolling in the berth with Airachnid.

If she ever had the misfortune of ending up on his medtable one day…

Before he could work himself up, Knock Out tilted his helm. He heard the faint sounds of talking from the main suite. Curious and with a strained grunt, he pushed himself off the berth for a second attempt and hobbled into the next room. Knock Out could barely walk straight. Somehow, he would have to overcome his ungraceful gait before he made it to the medbay for his next shift. 

It had been quite some time since Breakdown had spiked him to such a point where even standing was a problem. The last time that had happened, Knock Out recalled, was probably when they had first arrived on the ship and were excited to explore all the new toys in the medbay together. There wasn’t any way he was going to let any of the vehicons see him like this. They would be whispering about him for orns. After all, the true nature of his relationship with Breakdown wasn’t supposed to be open information. Perhaps some could see through Breakdown’s ‘assistant’ role, it wasn’t _that_ well veiled. But it wasn’t something the pair announced. That was something they had learned early on in the war.

Having entered the main room, Knock Out leaned against the wall by his berthroom, arms folded. He watched as Breakdown was just ending a video conference with someone. Turning around, Breakdown greeted Knock Out with a big grin.

“There you are,” he said, “’’bout time you were up.”

Knock Out snorted loftily. “’Bout time? I can hardly walk what did you do to me?”

Breakdown smirked as he crossed the room with a satisfied swag. “Do to you? I could ask you the same,” and he thrusted a digit at multiple deep scratches across his frame. “I’m not the only one who got a little carried away.”

“Well you deserve it,” Knock Out replied, struggling to keep the brashness from appearing on his faceplate. “There’s no way I can recover from this by time I start my shift. I've got physio with some of the vehicons first thing. I’m going to be an embarrassment and everybot will know about us.”

Knock Out hadn’t even seen it coming but before he knew it, Breakdown had scooped him up from under his arms and was twirling him in the air.

“What the!?” he alarmed, “What are you doing!? Put me down!! You know I hate this!!”

But Breakdown responded with a laugh of delight and Knock Out found himself again struggling to show his equal delight.

"I can't help myself! You know that, hot stuff." He pressed his faceplate up against Knock Out's. He stole a few kisses then, unable to help himself, he kissed him a few times more. "You're so fragging gorgeous."

"Yes, I know," Knock Out agreed. "Now put me down."

Placing him back on the he ground gently, Breakdown took a step back and stared him up and down. But as they looked at one another while Knock Out struggled to find a comfortable position to stand in, that enthusiastic grin of Breakdown's began to fade. Knock Out realised the solemnness of their conversation before power down had reemerged and hung over them once again.

“You didn’t want to sparkmerge with me last night,” Breakdown said. All humour was gone from his vocaliser. Knock Out felt ashamed to look away but didn’t have the strength to keep holding his gaze. “You told me no,” Breakdown continued softly. He reached out and cupped Knock Out’s chin in a bold move.

“I didn’t want to,” Knock Out replied bitterly. Suddenly, the details were becoming clearer. “You don’t deserve it.”

There was a pain reflected in that one eye of Breakdown’s. “I know,” he said. There was a drawn out pause and Breakdown pulled back and straightened himself. “Maybe if we merge, um, maybe you’ll know how I feel. Maybe that’ll make you feel better?”

But the pain was still too fresh within Knock Out to respond with resolution. “Perhaps,” was all he could come up with.

Breakdown looked away, then back at Knock Out. “Maybe you’ll consider it. Maybe after our duties you’ll change your mind and sparkmerge with me,” he said. The hopefulness he spoke with made Knock Out cringe. “I’d like that.”

But Knock Out responded with, “What makes you think you deserve my forgiveness so soon?” 

“I don’t,” Breakdown admitted. “But I just got off a conference and I got some news that might make you happy.”

“Oh?” Knock Out said with sarcasm. He rested his servo on his waist, still using the wall to support him from falling to the ground.

“Sounds like Megatron is as tired of Airachnid, as you are.” Knock Out tilted his helm in piqued interest. “Megatron wants her dead. Dreadwing and I are supposed to head out and do the job together.”

Knock Out should have smiled, but he didn’t.

“Aren’t you happy?”

Knock Out looked up at Breakdown. “Oh, I’m happy,” he said honestly. “I can’t wait for her to be out of our lives.” Still, he couldn’t bring himself to smile. Just hearing Airachnid’s name sent a resurgence of his emotions to the forefront.

Breakdown picked up on this. “Maybe when I come back…” he spoke, his voice tentative. “Maybe we can go on a drive together? Like how we used to? Maybe we can at least do that.”

“I…” Knock Out said, his glossa feeling like it was about to lock up. “I’d like that.”

Watching as Breakdown smiled to himself and turned to head to the door, he stopped, then turned to face Knock Out again. “Hey, Knock Out?”

“Yes?”

Breakdown took a step forwards, then halted. “You know… you know I…” He fumbled on his words. “I, uh, I can’t wait. To spend more time with you.”

A trace of a smile forced its way onto Knock Out’s faceplate. Everything Breakdown wanted to say was expressed in his optic. He nodded.

Still against the wall, he watched as Breakdown lumbered towards the door. Looking to the side, Knock Out considered his proposal. Was this finally their turning point? Would life on the _Nemesis_ finally be bearable now that they knew how each other felt? Knock Out longed to just work next to Breakdown in tandem once again. 

“Knock Out, I love you.”

The words pierced Knock Out’s thoughts and his helm shot up to look straight at Breakdown in surprise. They stared at one another from across the room. Knock Out felt a rush of emotions swell inside him. It was an intense longing to be with this bot, somehow, after all these years, Breakdown could still stir such a strong need in Knock Out. But as quickly as these feelings surfaced, they fluctuated inside and Knock Out felt something he rarely ever experienced. He felt not only wounded, but utterly crushed knowing what Breakdown had done to him. It was these emotions that grabbed onto his ability to return what he fully felt inside. He should say it, he really should. But the words were caught in his vocaliser. Instead, they came out as:

“What bot doesn’t?” and he gave a classic Knock Out smirk.

The smile on Breakdown’s faceplate faltered slightly. Clearly, he had been hoping to hear the echo to his words. But still, he smiled through the disappointment. Giving one another one last look, the two conveyed to one another how fiercely they both yearned for normalcy between one another- to return to a time before they had been called to the _Nemesis_.

As the suite doors closed and Breakdown disappeared from view, Knock Out wondered if tonight, finally, after everything had come to a heightened point between them, that they would be able to reconnect and return to how things used to be.

He pushed himself off the wall and headed to the washing room to shine himself over for another shift. Fighting through the pain, he struggled to walk straight. Yes, he thought, perhaps tonight he would merge with Breakdown when he returned. Knock Out only needed for him to suffer a little before he would consider forgiveness and the reward of a sparkmerge. Breakdown wanted him to return his sentiment, but he would have to wait just a few joors more to hear it. Once he returned from his task, once Airachnid was dead, then Knock Out promised Breakdown would hear him say those three meaningful words.


	7. Mad Machine |&| Prime Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcee vs. Airachnid. Or is it? What will become of this ultimate encounter and will Arcee finally find what she came to seek?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW: Flashback up! (^-^)b
> 
> Another delay! My apologies- I've had lots of overtime that prevents me from writing. m(u.u)m Because of this- **the flashback has not been added yet!** I will add it **this week** at the end of this chapter. You can check back here (this message will be edited) or check for the update at my tumblr: tfnovaspark.
> 
> Thank-you for all the added comments and kudos from the previous chapter, I love them!! I am working hard on the next chapter (and flashback)- it won't take as long this time for sure. :)

“ _You killed him!!_ ” Arcee screamed. She fought to tear herself from her bonds despite knowing how useless her attempts were. She didn’t even know what to say beyond screaming the same sentence over and over.

The horrible truth of the situation for Arcee was not even that Knock Out had just been slain in front of her, after all, she was never close with him. He hadn’t even been her ‘partner’, technically. What drove Arcee into an emotional frenzy was that she was being forced to relive the nightmare that was Tailgate’s death. What occurred before her was an exact replay, only this time it was real _again_.

And it wasn’t even that she felt for Tailgate in the moment. His involvement in the scene had not been relevant for quite some time anymore for Arcee. It was all about her. How she had failed yet again to protect someone- anyone- from Airachnid. That vile insecticon had won again when this time it had all been laid out for Arcee on a shiny platter. Only this time, Bumblebee and Cliffjumper wouldn’t be busting in to save her. Now, whatever what was supposed to happen to Arcee at the end of that long ago memory was going to play out and there was nothing she could do about it.

How had she messed this one up? How was someone, yet again, being slain in front of her by Airachnid? This cruel lesson slapped Arcee in the faceplate. She could never win. Airachnid burst into Arcee’s life so unexpectedly, she consumed Arcee and it became her obsession to kill Airachnid ever since they had first met. Now, it would be Airachnid who would be the one to finish their tale. No matter what Arcee had tried to do, Airachnid’s presence both physically, and in Arcee’s own mind, had been there, haunting her, a plague, a countdown clock to Arcee’s final hours like a bomb. Well, now it was ready to explode.

“Don’t be so dramatic, dear.”

Arcee had been so consumed by her shocked tantrum that she had failed to hear the sounds of Airachnid’s spider legs tip-tapping along the wall as she crept down from the darkness above Arcee. Transforming back into bot mode, Airachnid chuckled. She stood by the screen and took a casual glance up at it.

Energon seeped from Knock Out’s wound, a pool massing beneath him. He sagged in his shackles, his frame convulsing as the glow from his failing spark was slightly visible through his wound.

“He’s not _dead_ ,” Airachnid explained, tapping a digit against her chinguard. “He’s _dying_. There is a difference.” She turned to Arcee and presented her with a simple enough smile. “But we can save him, if you like. There’s still a chance, before his spark…” and she whispered the word, “ _disappears._ ”

Arcee gritted her dentae together, her gaze now residing on Airachnid. “What do you want, Airachnid? What do you even want from me?” A thousand thoughts raced inside her processor and she fought to grab onto one of them to better articulate herself. Her optics felt as if they were going to sizzle and crack from amount of hatred that radiated from behind them. “All these years,” she was barely about to get the words out, “all these years later and you’re still obsessed! You can’t just kill me like any other Decepticon would. What do you want? I am _done with you._ ”

“It’s not over until I say it’s over,” Airachnid replied, striding towards her. “I hope you were paying attention while I was addressing your yet again ex-partner, but like I told him, I don’t like unfinished business.”

“ _We have no business!!_ ” Arcee screamed back, unable to compose herself.

Airachnid let out a harsh, genuine laugh. “We both know _that’s_ a lie,” as she ran a hand along the chains above Arcee’s head and gave them a leisurely shake..

“I am done with your games!” Arcee spat, “So you were supposed to kill me all those years ago and I got away? That’s it? Then let’s do this and just kill me already. I’m here with no way to escape! Go ahead and kill me. You win.”

Airachnid glanced at Arcee from over her shoulder. “Oh, Arcee, it’s not that simple. Our business goes far deeper than that.”

Utterly outraged and fed up with her behaviour, Arcee’s whole frame quaked. “Then _what?_ What is it, Airachnid? Alright, I’ll play along. What do you want to know?!”

She vented heavily from her outburst, watching as Airachnid took her sweet time to stroll around her and contemplate what Arcee had just said. She _knew_ Arcee was building up in frustration from her lack of immediate response and Arcee knowing that drove her frustration even further. She shook with fury in her bonds, struggling to think of something to get the interrogation rolling. Arcee couldn’t tell her where the Autobot base was- or any of the current events such as Megatron’s desertion. So what? What else had Airachnid wanted to know? The location of her sires. That had come up previously.

“You want to know where my sires are?” she called out. “I don’t know. I met up with them in the early days of the war- they had experience and skills to contribute that didn’t- so I went to a different camp and that was honestly the last I saw of them.”

Why Airachnid would want to know where Arcee’s sires were was completely beyond her. It made no sense as it had never come up before. When Arcee had listened in on Airachnid’s conversation with Knock Out, She had brought up something from his past as well, something about a newspark Breakdown had found and, yes, something about _unfinished business_. Could something in Arcee’s past- beyond what had happened with Tailgate- something about her sires, be ‘unfinished business’ too?

Still emotionally heightened yet somehow more calm than before, Arcee asked, “Why do you even want to know? Do you even know them?”

Airachnid turned on the tip of her pede in one swift motion and snatched Arcee’s optics with her own in an almost maddened glare.

“Do I? _Do I?_ ” Somehow, Airachnid remaining still where she stood at a distance was more frightening than if she advanced. “My, my, Arcee, do you even know what you have unlocked?” Her voice fell into a deadly lure, “Let’s take a small venture down memory lane, shall we? I’ll bet I know more about you than you could ever imagine.”

Arcee said nothing. She stared into Airachnid’s haunting, sanity-bereft purple optics and an illusion of the past began to surface when Airachnid spoke the name:

“Mirage.”

Arcee jolted in reaction to that long-ago name.

_Mirage._

Before Cliffjumper, before Tailgate, there was Mirage. She could almost hear his usual words even now:

_“C’mon, Arcee, those seekers can read their dusty old datascrolls themselves. Let’s run ‘round town and flex those wonderful struts of yours. You and I aren’t meant to be cooped up, let’s go hunt some turbofoxes!”_

So distant, she struggled to vision him. Not much taller than her, bright blue and white with a crooked grin. Something like that, or was that grin Cliffjumper’s? Every time she tried to recall him, his faceplate shifted into that of Cliffjumper’s. Mirage was now almost as illusive as his name.

“Poor bot died before his time, wouldn’t you say?” Airachnid’s faraway voice broke her thoughts.

Arcee regarded what she just said cautiously. “What do you know of him?”

“I know your sires didn’t like him.” Airachnid leaned against the wall, slightly in the shadows, just enough for Arcee to see her outline. “Didn’t approve of the boyfriend, did they?”

_“Who cares what Prowl and ‘Flamey think of us? They don’t have to know what we get up to. They can have your dearly betrothed mister dullsville between then two of ‘em.”_

Arcee narrowed her optics. “How do you know about him?”

The spider-bot folded her arms and said with a nonchalant shrug, “Because I killed him, of course.”

She felt as if her internals just gave out inside her. Right to her very pit, she felt like she was going to be sick. Arcee knew from the moment Airachnid had mentioned his name, she wasn’t stupid.

_“Babe… can you hear me..? I don’t know if we’re gonna see each other again any time soon… so I just… I had to say… Arcee, don’t-”_

“Why?” Arcee’s vocaliser felt numb as her frame. “I never knew you back then.”

“No,” Airachnid agreed. “But I knew that goody-goody cop sire of yours.”

Arcee made a crude sound. “You're not his type.”

Airachnid chuckled. “Nor I his,” she agreed. “We had other means for contact though. Please, Arcee, don’t tell me you’re so thick-helmed that you can’t make the connection. You honestly don’t know where I’m going with this?”

But she did. “Prowl wouldn’t.”

“Would," Airachnid replied. "Both of them."

Arcee felt herself shudder involuntarily. "My sires hired you to… _kill him?_ " she said it out loud. "Do you know how ridiculous you sound! You clearly don’t know anything about them! Prowl was a police enforcer! She was a scientist for the Distribution Centre! She knew the Waves- they were both well known! They would never, they had reputations-"

"Yes!" And Arcee was startled as Airachnid, darted forwards as if Arcee had just spoken the key word to her enemy's frenzy. "That's exactly right," Airachnid hissed, standing tall and proud just a bare width in front of Arcee. "They had _reputations._ "

Those cruel optics bathed Arcee in their ghastly glow. So close, she could see the wild hexigonal pattern in them, a little reveal that Airachnid was not like her, not a regular bot, but a lowly and barbaric insecticon. Those optics did not trick Arcee, not one bit. She saw them for what the were and would not allow the hypnotic light dull her senses into complacency.

Arcee nearly laughed, but there was a slight unease in her vocaliser. "You think they hired you to kill him, because… I was supposed to unite with someone they chose for me… for status?"

"You were responsible for more ex-partners than you're even aware of!" Airachnid delighted.

"I'm not responsible!!" Arcee shouted.

"Tailgate, Cliffjumper, now Knock Out and poor, innocent, Mirage!” Airachnid almost sang their names. “All of them becoming entangled with the wrong femme. You should do yourself a favour and turn preferences, shouldn't you?"

"You're wrong."

"It's because of those pesky reputations of your sires that your being here is poetically ironic," Airachnid’s vocaliser was deadly smooth. "Indeed, I was once strapped down to that slab like you are. Yes, Arcee, I once called these walls my home, or rather imprisoned against my will, framed-"

"Framed!?" Arcee exploded, "You killed him!!"

"It was a contract!" Airachnid snarled, "You don't break a contract to save your little femme's reputation! They paid me but when the trail started to lead back to her, he arrested me! Sending me here!"

Airachnid lifted a single digit and began to run it along Arcee's faceplate, from helm to chinguard, slicing deep and slow. "Pity me, Arcee. I was tortured here. They cut me and drained me, electrified and brutalised me.” She seized Arcee by her pipes. “But it didn't stop there, this place is far more twisted than you could ever imagine. You see… _He_ wasn't very bright, his processor ran a little slower than most. But Prowl signed to have him brought here and I watched them them torture and kill him just to make me suffer for my crime.” She released Arcee and her vocaliser trailed off, falling into the haunting memories of her past. “Yes, I do know what it's like to watch a partner's life be completely disregarded and slain. He was innocent, his only crime being sparked with a simple processor. But they killed my brood-brother anyway." And she leaned in close, nearly faceplate to faceplate. “What a shame. Waspinator was always my favourite.”

Airachnid’s faceplate lingered in front of Arcee’s, far too close for Arcee’s comfort. She could feel Airachnid studying her features, with no where else to look, Arcee had no choice but to stare into her.

Finally, Airachnid withdrew. “Prowl brought me my brood-brother, so I’m going to extend the favour and bring him his heir. You see, I thought the perfect solution would be to kill you and bring him your head. But since I’ve… changed… I’ve thought of a better solution.”

Arcee felt her frame tremble at the dread of Airachnid’s words. What did she mean by change?

“I know what would be a worse punishment for him _and_ for you…” Airachnid spread her spider legs behind her back and placed her servos on her waist. “If you joined me in eternity!!”

And Airachnid’s lower faceplate split apart and sliding out was a long, purple cord. Arcee screamed in both disgust and surprise, cringing in her hanging chains.

“What the!!?”

“One bite is all it takes!!” Somehow, Airachnid was still able to speak.

The cable weaved through the darkness towards her. The stripped bio-lights on the glossa were the only way to gauge its impending approach. Arcee reared back in dread. That glossa, it was the same purple cord that the vampire insecticons had attacked them with. Instantly, Arcee knew- _Airachnid was a vampire too!_ It all made sense, she had probably turned all of her insecticons! Airachnid must have drained the energon dry out of her all of her followers and turned them into one of her, an entire army of them for her to command. And now, she was going to make Arcee one of them!

“NO!!” Arcee cried out, flailing as the glossa advanced towards her.

“Don’t be frightened,” Airachnid laughed cruelly, “it doesn’t hurt!”

“ _GET AWAY!!_ ”

The cord crept closer and closer yet. Still Arcee resisted, shaking her chains back and forth. She could see the tiny pincers on the end of the cord twitch, eager to draw her energon. Arcee cried out again frantically, now realising that this was going to be her end.

Then the lights went out.

Venting heavily, Arcee fought to quiet her strained venting as much as possible. All she could see through the darkness was Airachnid’s glowing purple optics. Only now, they were no longer focused on her. Wildly, Airachnid’s optics scanned the darkness. Clearly, whatever happened to the lights, it hadn’t been orchestrated by her.

Stilled in the silence, Arcee strained her audials to listen in the dark for any clue of what was going on around her. After a moments silence, she then heard the repulsive sound of Airachnid’s vampiric glossa retracting. Only by watching the purple optics did Arcee know Airachnid was stepping away from her. Without warning, two insecticons landed next to her with a _thud_ each. Their blazing red optic gazed at their Queen imploringly.

“Must be the back up generator,” Airachnid finally said. Although there was something about the way she spoke that made Arcee wonder how confident she was about that statement.

Finally, the purple optics came to rest on Arcee again. For a moment, a horrific thought ran through Arcee’s processor and she wondered if the biting glossa was going to shoot out at any moment despite the interruption. But instead, she heard Airachnid’s chilling voice say,

“Don’t go anywhere, Arcee.” Her vocaliser dripping with cruelty. “After all, we’ll have eternity to spend together once I give you that little nip.”

And on that line, Arcee heard the sounds of Airachnid and her insecticons transforming. But instead of leaving via the mysterious depths above Arcee’s prison like before, a sudden burst of light broke into the room. The door to her cell opened and even though Arcee winced and her optics struggled to adjust, she caught the sight of Airachnid’s, and a few insecticons’, silhouettes vanish into the light before the door shut and Arcee was left in the darkness again.

If there was any time to attempt an escape, it was now.

Arcee looked above herself, and saw something close to twenty sets of insecticon optics staring back at her. Cursing to herself, Arcee wondered how far she could make it out of her bonds and if she could even get to the door before the insecticons swarmed her. But even then, she needed to figure out a plan to escape her bonds first.

Glancing around herself, Arcee saw nothing but an empty room shadowed in the darkness of the black-out. Even the video had been cut off. The last image she had seen had been of Knock Out. Energon still running from the wound to his chassis. She cursed herself for ever agreeing to this plan of his. But even more, she cursed herself for bringing yet another ‘partner’ to their death.

Attempting to transform her wrist blades yet again, they of course locked. As tempting as it was to dwell on all that Airachnid had revealed, of what her sires had done to not only herself but to Airachnid as well, Arcee knew if she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life as a vampire, then she’d have to escape now.

Before she could even start a plan, without warning, a loud shrill shattered through the air. Bewildered and cringing, Arcee glanced upwards. Responding to the call, the twenty-something insecticons above her all echoed their shrill cries that made Arcee’s frame tremble. Then in a hurricane flurry, their wings taking flight thundered; the sounds bouncing off the walls and deafening Arcee’s audio receptors. When the disturbing reverberating disappeared into the distance, only then, did Arcee look up again. Her spark almost skipped a pulse. The insecticons were gone.

Something was wrong.

Why would Airachnid need her army of insecticons to fix a back-up generator? Before she could dwell further, violently, the whole room shook from the shake of of a distant explosion. Just before she could start imagining scenarios of what could have caused an explosion, another one went off, closer this time, so close that Arcee shook in her chains and…

She fell to the ground.

Arcee wasn’t sure what stunned her most- the impact of falling to the ground, the explosions, or the fact that she was suddenly free. Looking back up at her hanging chains, she realised that they had been electric the whole time and must have broken when the back-up generator died. Only then when the explosion shook the chains to and fro did they snap open and release her.

Well, Arcee wasn’t going to ask for an invitation. She was out.

Shielding her optics from the light as they adjusted, she looked around. The room outside her prison was circular surrounded by a bunch of doors like her own. She began to recall the imagery as she remembered, vaguely, being brought to her cell. There, ahead, was the wide staircase leading to the rest of the Garrus One. She was just about to head towards escape when she realised Knock Out must be behind one of these doors.

Arcee began to open the doors as they were no longer locked due to the back-up generator failing. All the reservations she had about him, the thought of leaving him behind did not even enter her processor. It was instinct for her. An Autobot never left a comrade behind.

Tearing open one of the doors, she peered into the shadows and saw Knock Out’s slumped, broken figure. His binds, like hers, were electric and she only had to tear them open to free him. Her intent was to catch his falling frame, she struggled to hold him upright but her arms, weak from being bound above her, holding her weight for so long, cried out in pain with every heave. Her frame begging for a power down, she was still bleeding and the ache in her helm was ever present. Her frame giving out, she only managed to give him a slightly less graceful fall as he dragged her to the ground.

Struggling with his size, Arcee somehow managed to push him up right, so he leaned back against the slanted medtable. She could already hear him groaning.

“Breakdown…”

“No,” Arcee replied in a hurried tone. She rested a servo on his shoulder pieces and shook him briskly. “It’s me- it’s Arcee.”

“What?” Knock Out pushed himself off the ground, but as he strained to do so, he instantly clutched his wound. He lifted his helm to look at her, his optics repeatedly glitching as he struggled to focus on her. “She said… Breakdown…”

“What?” Arcee asked. She had no idea what he was getting at other than for some reason despite the obvious size differences, he was mistaking her for his blue partner. “It’s Arcee, we need to get out of here-”

To her surprise, he pushed her to the side by her arm while attempting to stand. “Of course I know it’s you,” he growled. Lifting his hand from his wound, he stared at it, drenched in energon. “I need a patch,” he muttered, heaving to the ground again. “I need a patch-job, she pierced my spark, it’s…” he gasped and his frame shuddered, “I can feel it caterwauling…"

“Then we need to get you to Ratchet’s. Come on, let’s go.” Bending down again, she looped her arm around his, struggling to pull him up despite their size differences. He allowed her to help steady until his optics came into focus and he started shaking his helm vigorously.

“I need that,” Knock Out vented with strain. “That…” Alert, Arcee looked around herself, finding nothing. “I need that…” He lifted an arm and waved it over at something across the room. “Bring it to me,” he ordered.

It was the image card Airachnid had been teasing him with while she had been trying to gain information out of him. While Arcee had heard the conversation, something about a newspark being in the image, she had not been able to see the image itself as it had been faced away from the camera.

Wanting to get out of the prison as quickly as possible, Arcee dashed over to the image. Picking it up off the ground with delicate digits, she was about to bring it back but as soon as she flipped over the undamaged secret, she caught it from the corner of her optics and gasped at what she saw.

It was the same one that had been on his berthstand! The damaged one with the decorative casing. In that pre-war image, Breakdown had been holding something and Knock Out had been looking up at it. Now she could see what- no, _who_ \- it was Breakdown was holding.

Not even realising he had crossed the room, covering his bleeding wound, he grunted with a strain as he transformed his chassis, revealing his spark chamber. Arcee vented a gasp at the shock of seeing the damaged chamber. Through the holes Airachnid had made, Arcee could see glimpses of Knock Out’s very spark.

Seeing somebot’s spark wasn’t taboo, it wasn’t private persay. It was just that showing somebot one’s spark was usually a sign of immense trust, or when needed to for medical reasons. His was an intense red, red as his paint, red as his biolights and as red as his optics. But she could see it flicker and wane from being speared.

Swiftly, Knock Out stashed the image card in the area that held his spark chamber. When he closed his chassis, a surge of energon bubbled out of his wound and he wavered from the pain.

“Does he know?” Arcee asked, still agape at what she had seen in the image.

“We need to get out of here,” Knock Out answered hastily. He stumbled awkwardly towards the doorway. “We can assume since we’re not both dead right now, that the insecticons above us have fled. As soon as we get somewhere clear we can call a spacebridge and-”

“I can’t leave just yet,” Arcee interjected.

Knock Out, leaning against the doorway to steady himself, turned to give her a bewildered look. “What are you talking about? We’re out-numbered and I’m _wounded_ -”

But Arcee stubbornly resisted. “I can’t leave without the… the Iacon Relics- I can’t let Airachnid keep them.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Knock Out exclaimed, a burst of frantic energy seizing his motions. “We need to escape _now!_ I don’t know how we’re freed but we need to take it as a blessing from Primus and get out while I’m mostly in one piece!”

Even though the logic to flee was apparent for Arcee, she held her ground, forcing Knock Out to turn around giving her a bewildered look.

“Then would you like to be the one to explain to Bumblebee why Airachnid appears at our front door with all of the relics, because I’ll let you explain that one,” she retorted.

Knock Out’s response was a narrowing of the optics- which she couldn’t tell was either because of him disapproving her sass or because he was doubling over in pain.

“Where are they?” he asked.

The feeling of being in the prison and the fact that the insecticons could swarm them from above at any moment overwhelmed Arcee and she pushed past Knock Out to escape.

“She took them off us while you were unconscious. Last I saw, the insecticon she gave them to took them into a room with video screens. We have to find that room, they must be in there,” Arcee marched towards the staircase. “I don’t know how long she’s going to be distracted, but we have to act quickly.”

Arcee had been so caught in her thoughts that she hadn’t realised Knock Out hadn’t moved from leaning against the doorway of his prison cell. She was already halfway up the staircase.

“I can’t keep up with this wound,” he said flatly. “I’m losing too much energon.” He leaned off of the frame, wavered slightly, then transformed into his alt-mode. As his chassis pieces slid into place, they pushed another wave of energon out. As a car, he shook from the pain and muttered a curse. The hood of his car mode was cracked, still covered in energon. At least his spark chamber was no longer visible and his wound now facing upwards, would no longer leak.

He rolled up towards Arcee and bounced up the stairs. “I’ll have to follow in alt mode,” he said.

“Good idea,” she almost smirked. “We’ll travel faster this way.” And she too transformed. She didn’t wait an astrosecond. She took off as a lithe, speedy earth motorbike, giving a quick glance to her rear-view mirror to ensure that Knock Out was keeping pace behind her.

As she drove down the worn down hallways, she forced herself to recall the route she and her captors had taken when leading her to her cell. Wasn’t it…. This way…. A right, then a left, and another left… Knock Out’s headlights shone behind her, giving her sight in the darkness. As her tires sped over rubble and she weaved in a quick fluid motion through the debris, she felt her spark pulse with an electric surge of energy, nervousness and alertness both encompassing her.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Knock Out called from behind. Then, as if on cue, another explosion sounded from far off behind them. “What in the allspark?!”

“Here!” Arcee called out.

The hallway led them towards a the room Arcee remembered. She had only seen a glimpse of what the inside had looked like- a bunch of screens, on the wall, but yes, this was the right one. She sped into the room and skidded to a halt, transforming back into her bot mode. She gasped, taking a step onto the black, glass floor, staring all around the room.

Knock Out rolled up next to her. “Guess she’s never bored here on the moon. She has a lot of TV to watch.”

The entire room was stories upon stories tall, floors of catwalks circling the entire room and on each row, screens. Screen upon screen next to screen, all layering above one another creating one of the tallest rooms Arcee had ever been in. This was obviously the security room for the entire prison.

“I don’t see the relics down here,” Knock Out said. “Perhaps they’re somewhere above?”

“Keep a watch down here,” she stated, still staring overhead. Squinting, she scrutinised the tables on the different levels of catwalks. No relics that she saw. “I’m going to search up there.”

Not waiting for a response, Arcee pelted towards a ladder leading to the first level of scaffolding. Grabbing the highest ledge, she used it to catapult herself into the air and into the catwalk.

Without losing momentum, she ran around the circular catwalk, always searching as far ahead as she could. When she knew the relics were not on this level, Arcee leapt onto the railing and bounced off it, landing on the next level atop the prior. She’d do yet another sweep before moving onto the level and so on. She did this repeatedly, frustrated with her lack of results. Throwing herself into the air, transforming into her alt mode, Arcee landed on the railing of the catwalk and sped even faster, quickening her search.

The screens flickered on and the entire room lit up, no longer were they in darkness.

“Arcee!” she heard Knock Out call from below.

 _Scrap._ If the generator had been fixed, then Airachnid would be returning to their prison cells. They didn’t have much time!

Glancing beyond, there were still floors upon floors to check. If only Knock Out was able to help. Checking on him below, she saw that he had transformed into bot mode and was leaning against one of the consoles, shifting through feeds on one of the monitors.

“I’m checking the upper levels,” he shouted out to her. “There’s cameras everywhere!”

Together, they worked together as quickly as they could. Arcee could almost feel her spark pulsing in her pipes as she zipped from floor to floor. She had to find the relics, if the rest of her team discovered the relics missing, Arcee would have to explain herself. There wasn't any way they could understand, Arcee had to bring them back to avoid such a situation. That and leaving them in Airachnid's hold, was out of the question. 

“Oh," the inevitable voice came, "how fortuitous. You’re still alive.”

Screeching to a halt, Arcee flipped backwards and transformed. Grasping the railing she looked down, down the flights of floors and spotted her.

Alone, Airachnid strode into the room, facing Knock Out. They were just out of range of being specks. Knock Out, still holding his wound and looking at her from over his shoulder, did not move or speak.

“You impress me,” Arcee heard Airachnid sneer. “You must love the pain. I promise you this will hurt far worse the second time.”

Overcome with rage at just the sight of Airachnid, Arcee began to jump from level to level, this time in a descent. Her aim was to surprise Airachnid from behind. But she stopped abruptly, taken by shock when, as Airachnid strode towards Knock Out, all spider appendages poised, he suddenly ran towards her.

There was enough distance for Airachnid to transform into her spider bot mode as she raced to meet him. But just before they should meet, Knock Out quickly transformed into his alt mode and swung himself into a drift. Unable to predict his sudden erratic movement, Airachnid attempted to step around Knock Out swiping beneath her but he slammed into her legs with such an impact that Arcee could do nothing but wince at the loud scream Airachnid emitted.

A pit-churning crunching sound made Arcee open her optics and search below for an indication of what just happened.

Sprawled on the ground was Airachnid, her spider legs bent into impossible positions that had to be as painful as they looked. Slipping in her own energon beneath her broken limbs, Airachnid whipped around in time to see Knock Out slam his brakes and hit reverse.

Clearly not willing to waste time to turn around, he zoomed as fast as he could in reverse and before Airachnid could even attempt to crawl out of the way, he rammed directly into her face.

“Arghhh!!!” Airachnid cried out, a sound of cracking and the sound of energon splatter echoed through the room.

Gasping in shock by the turn of events, Arcee felt caught in the moment, unable to move, only in a position to watch the events that unfolded before her.

After impacting with Airachnid’s faceplate, now with time on his side while his foe clutching her wound, Knock Out viciously roared his engine, revving it in a victorious claim before racing towards her again. This time, he transformed and leapt at Airachnid. It was a shock to Arcee to see him so alight with the desire to kill.

Barely able to see, Airachnid, too, transformed, to her bot form. She made a paltry attempt to block his impact with her broken spider legs, but they hung limply and he was upon her, buzzsaw already drawn.

Arcee couldn’t comprehend what she saw. Of course, she did. But after all they had been through- all Arcee had been through- the image of them finally having the upper servo against Airachnid, a picture of near triumph, broke Arcee from her hold. Suddenly overcome with thrill herself, Arcee began to race down the catwalk, hand on railing, a wild smile unable to keep itself off her faceplate. As she ran, she could not remove her optics from what occurred below.

“My, my,” Knock Out purred. He rose his arm higher, the buzzsaw whirling next to his audio receptors, he almost seemed entranced by the sound, like a twisted melody. “I never imagined I would feel such an exuberant thrill to be on top of you,” and he laughed maliciously.

Yes, Knock Out was on top of Airachnid. He had her pinned to the ground, his knees trapping her arms while those broken legs of hers flailed helplessly behind her. She was not a whole lot smaller than him, but his weight as enough to keep her down, despite her constant flailing.

But just as quickly as he had fallen into a ruthless trance, he snapped out of it and a fierce rage seized him. “Now _tell me!!_ ” Arcee’s optics shot open when she saw him thrust his buzzsaw right into Airachnid’s faceplate, a sliver of a distance between the two.

He couldn’t kill her yet! Arcee leaned forwards, now leaping from railing to railing. Not without her!

His optics widened, as if thrilled by the sight of Airachnid’s instinctive fear of the blades so close to her faceplate. “You mentioned something of my precious Breakdown- _where did you hide his spark??_ ”

Airachnid shuttered energon out of her optics. She snarled in response, fighting to free herself. “I don’t think you understand how torture works,” she spat. “I know how desperate you are for him! You’re weak. You can’t kill me because if I die, you’ll never find him.”

Arcee gasped as he reared back he slammed his buzzsaw into the ground- clean through one of Airachnid’s damaged appendages. Never had Arcee heard Airachnid let out such a scream.

“ _TELL ME!_ ” Knock Out roared and without warning, he slammed his buzzsaw down again, chopping off another limb. Twisting and squirming beneath him, Airachnid furiously hissed.

Knock Out was clearly in another place, he was not focusing clearly and that terrified Arcee. With three limbs gone- one already sliced from before Airachnid was ever trapped in stasis back on earth, one more limb to go- would Knock Out just kill her?

Arcee felt the sudden emotion in her spark grasp and shake herself wildly in the panic. Not like this- Arcee couldn’t let her rivalry with Airachnid end in such a way. No matter what she told herself, no matter what she told Optimus Prime, Arcee would never live at peace knowing Knock Out had been the one to slay Airachnid.

Sure, he had been wronged by her too. He had actually lost a lover. But it was beyond losing Tailgate for Arcee, it had been a building hatred, a surmountable point that everything Arcee had felt, every emotion, every experience during the war that had somehow found its focus and that was Airachnid. If Knock Out killed Airachnid, then Arcee would have nothing and she would have nothing _forever_.

Arcee could not live that way. She needed this. She needed this more than Knock Out did, more than anybot would ever understand. Airachnid’s death was what Arcee needed to cure her of this war. All her hopes and dreams and fervent imaginings of who she was and what potential she had within herself lay within this moment, within a single kill.

This was her moment, her life. This was Arcee’s future at stake.

“Are you lying to me!?” Knock Out shouted, his vocaliser breaking from emotional strain. “ _Do not lie to me!!_ WHERE. IS. HE?”

Yet Airachnid laughed in his faceplate, despite her physical pain. “Desperation! You positively secrete it. Can’t live without your little windup toy to tell you how pretty you are every day? You should be thankful that I tried to put you out of your misery! Now you’ll live eternity never knowing where he is, out there somewhere.”

Now trembling from the indignation and fury, his dentae gritted, Knock Out looked like he was barely able to hold it together. Energon still slipped down his chassis from his wound and Arcee could see the burden in his faceplate caused by calling forth the strength to sit up right and lift his servo above his head. Surely the sound of the buzzsaw by his audios aided his muster.

“I will kill you,” his voice shook, by rage or the inability to commit to the words, she wasn’t sure. Arcee ran faster.

“I didn’t want to give you this gift,” Airachnid snarled, “but if it’s my only chance..!” and her vampiric glossa shot out towards Knock Out’s faceplate. Arcee shouted out in alarm for him.

But it was almost as if Knock Out had anticipated this attack, for next Arcee knew, Knock Out had sliced Airachnid’s vampire glossa in half.

The scream Airachnid emitted echoed through the entire room. She thrashed beneath him and energon gushed from her cut glossa. Knock Out hacked it again and she screamed another shrill cry, retracting her vampire glossa back into her where energon started to drown her mouthplate.

Watching the energon pour from her mouth as her frame twitched. Knock Out’s faceplate contorted into an expression of disgust.

“ _Where did you hide him?!_ ” he commanded. “Tell me!!”

Yet even through the energon pouring down her faceplate, Airachnid smirked in a bizarre twist. The energon bubbled in her mouthplate, spilling out the sides and she extended her pipes towards him. She whispered, “He told me he lost his lust for you, lost his _love_ of you.”

Knock Out’s optics dilated into slits from rage. Completely possessed by fury, he raised his arm back and Arcee knew this would be the killing blow.

“ _KNOCK OUT- STOP!_ ”

Knock Out whipped his helm around to the sound of her voice. Fatal mistake. As soon as he laxed, Airachnid slipped her arms out from under his knees and stabbed them straight into his open wound.

Knock Out and Arcee both gasped in surprise. He doubled over, his scream muffled by the vomiting of more energon. Airachnid darted out from underneath him before he hit the ground. Now behind him, Airachnid smashed her heeled pede into the back of his pipes, pinning him.

“Disgusting _Autobot,_ ” she snarled, energon spraying from the sides of her mouth dribbling onto Knock Out’s back. She grinded her heel deeper into the back of his pipes and his optics began to flicker from pain. “ _Pathetic Autobot_. Never love your toys. Use them and throw them away like any smart Decepticon. Or you end up… like _her_ -”

That’s when Airachnid, for the first time since she had entered the security room, looked up and locked optics with Arcee.

Instantly, Arcee withdrew her blades on the sides of her arms and assumed a battle stance. Her brow ridges furrowed and she felt that snarl begin to ripple.

It began to course through her entire frame. Replacing her energon was that fuel that seized her and possessed Arcee with that identity that hid inside. It was the part of her that lived with her, it had surfaced during the war and prevented her from being anything but that encompassing sensation. It screamed inside her helm, overriding her thoughts and sensibilities and anything that Arcee had once been.

“Yes, come to me,” Airachnid laughed, crazed. She widened her arms in a broad gesture at Arcee. “Come! Hate me, kill me! Let’s end this as it is meant to be! Here, on Luna 2! Let your weak emotions drive you, Arcee, use them, fuel them, possess them! Slay me if you can!”

In the air, Arcee somersaulted and landed with ease on the ground, now only a few pede’s length away. Letting out an anguished scream, she dove forwards, already knowing Airachnid would block the attack.

She hardly thought about her next move. Her attacks came in a flurry, all of them by pure instinct. Airachnid knew her too well, for Arcee had no thoughts, her processor ran on hatred. Her optics, too, saw only hate. It wasn’t even a bot she saw herself fighting with, Airachnid became an emotion for Arcee, it was everywhere, inside and out, thudding in her audios and drowning them as they fought.

Relentless, Arcee struck over and over, arms and legs, pounding forwards. She hacked and sliced, cutting both air and Airachnid as the monster met her. Equaled in their frenzy, neither of them gaining the power in the fight no matter how much Arcee’s spark burned.

Forwards, more, just a little more, aim for the pipes, aim for the optics for the spark for anything. More, left, right, use the legs, draw her energon and slice her apart. It’s all Arcee could dream of.

But in that moment, when neither bot had the upper servo, just above on the other side of the room, a burst of glass shattered into the room. Several monitors exploded and the black glass beneath her shook, tearing the two apart from one another and forcing them to each look up at the rain of glass showering down on them. Bolts of electricity crackled in the air and a burst of insecticons flooded the sky.

At first, Arcee’s spark sank. She almost launched herself at a distracted Airachnid, but when she saw the bots saunter into the room onto the catwalk, firing their lasers at the insecticons, she stopped. 

The insecticons hadn’t even noticed either herself or their Queen below, but were instead completely engaged in battle with the presence of five bots. Arcee squinted, at first assuming they must be her team. But quickly, she realised she had never seen these strange bots before in her life.

“Primus, no.” The hate inside her began to drain and she noticed Knock Out, having forgotten about his presence. He struggled to push himself off the ground, staring at the scene above them all.

It wasn’t just him. Airachnid and Knock Out both looked like all energon had drained from their faceplates. In unison, terror overcame them and Arcee was left completely confused as to what could strike fear into the both of them so intensely.

“Hide,” Knock Out rasped. Trying and failing to pull himself up or crawl, Arcee wasn’t sure. “ _We need to hide._ ”

But Airachnid distracted Arcee by breaking into a run towards the exit. She barely made it halfway across the room when a dead insecticon fell, crashing, into the ground, skidding into Airachnid and sending her flying to the other side of the room.

“ _NOW!_ ” Knock Out’s commanding plead shook Arcee into action. Still confused, Arcee ran over to Knock Out, grabbed him by his arm and helped half drag, half hobble towards…

“Where?” Arcee shouted to him over the sounds of the chaos above.

“There!” Knock Out inclined with his helm, directing towards a spiral staircase by the exit leading to somewhere under the surveillance room.

With the floor of the room quickly becoming the victim of the aerial fight due to the falling insecticons and lasers of both sides, Arcee pushed Knock Out as much as she could to make it towards the staircase. Blasts showered the ground, along with more dead and wounded insecticons. One laser just narrowly missed Arcee’s faceplate. Looking up, she checked to make sure they hadn’t been noticed by the new bots, but all of them were completely engrossed in their fight with vampire insecticons. She kept her optics on them nonetheless as she and Knock Out descended down the staircase and soon the battle sounds became muffled.

Arcee pushed his weight off of her, sliding Knock Out’s arm off of her shoulder, allowing him to slide to the ground against a cabinet. He looked down at his wound and clasped it weakly, laying his helm back and shutting his optics. Distracted by the distant sounds of the fight, Arcee looked up and realised the ground of the surveillance room, now their ceiling, was a two-sided mirror. What looked like a slick black floor was now a windowed roof to which Arcee could see a tinted view of what occurred just above them.

There. On the ground next to a fallen insecticon lay Airachnid. Arcee’s optics darted to the staircase. What if Arcee poked out, just a little, and aimed her guns at Airachnid’s helm. Would a snipered shot be the best decision now? Her spark inside raced as she contemplated this decision, constantly darting her gaze between the staircase and Airachnid. But Knock Out’s weak vocaliser interrupted her.

“Did they see us?”

Arcee glanced at him. He looked worse than when he had been hit by the underground car back in New York.

“No. I don’t think so.” She looked back up and studied the bizarre frames of the bots. Three large ones- two the size of Ultra Magnus, if not larger, and two small. One around her size. “Who were are they?” Arcee pressed. “Do you think they’re helping us? Did Bumblebee send them-”

But she stopped when she noticed that Knock Out was looking up at them, terrified. His optics were wide and his mouthplate a terrified grimace.

“No,” his vocaliser trembled quietly, “you can’t possibly comprehend the threat they are. They are what every Decepticon fears worse than Lord Megatron-”

“You’re not making any sense. Worse than…” Arcee shook her helm, “What could be worse than Megatron? Here?”

Knock Out looked down at his wound. “They’re what keeps every Decepticon loyal, they’re what keeps us organised and unified.” He met her questioning gaze. “Because if someone strays, they come for us. Arcee, you have no idea. They are the DJD.”

“The who-the-who?” Arcee repeated. Restless, she stood up and leaned against a counter.

“The DJD,” he whispered. “Helix, Tesarus, Kaon, Vos and their twisted leader, Tarn. The Decepticon Justice Division.”

Arcee folded her arms. “’Decepticon Justice’? That sounds hilarious.”

Knock Out looked at her like she had just smacked him across the faceplate. “They hunt down defector Decepticons. It doesn’t matter if you have a good explanation,” and she caught him glancing down at his Autobrand above his wound. “Their opinion is law and they only listen to Megatron. If they saw us, they would kill us.”

“I’ve had worse odds,” Arcee countered bitterly.

“Arcee, they don’t just kill Decepticons,” Knock Out explained. “Look at them. Take a good look. Their alt modes are devices of torture. Kaon is an electric chair, Helex a smelting pot. They make sure you feel your innards around your glossa before they ever kill you.”

“I thought you liked torture,” Arcee said. It was half a joke, half a bitter statement on the theme of their situations here on Luna 2.

Knock Out gave her such a serious look that Arcee had never seen him give her. “Arcee, I enjoy rough but _sane_ pleasure with a _consenting_ partner. My interfacing circuitry is not aroused by the real pain and death of others.” Then he sneered, “I am not Airachnid.”

Arcee looked away. “Then what was all that with you and her back in the prison cells?”

“That,” he replied, vocaliser quiet, “was putting on a brave front. And not giving her what she wanted. Although,” he grimaced, “ she unfortunately found my weakness and exploited it.”

“I’m sorry.”

Knock Out’s look was of mistrust.

“About what she did to you,” Arcee explained. “With your relationship. With, um, Breakdown.”

“Yes,” Knock Out vented deeply, seemingly more from his wound than anything else. “Well,” there was a pause, “I think we should start figuring out how to escape. I don’t think I can keep bleeding for much longer. My spark…” he faltered. “It strains with every pulse.”

Looking around herself for the first time, Arcee began to walk along the rows of monitor stations. It was a command centre of sorts and only when she walked half way did she notice in the darkened room on the other side, three objects laying on a table.

“The iacon relics!” She ran over to the relics and gathered them all up. “Your energon prod is here too,” she said. Returning to Knock Out, she placed them down in front of him. A smile of relief crossed his faceplate when she handed him the phase shifter and his energon prod, but he then looked back at the pile and frowned.

“Three relics?” Knock Out asked when Arcee strapped the apex armor onto her back. “I thought we just brought the two.”

Arcee picked up the last relic and patted it gently. “I didn’t tell you, but I hid it on the other side of the apex armor. Just in case.”

“What is it?” he asked dubiously, staring at the round disc.

“We’re going to use it,” she explained cryptically. “We can use it on the insecticons and your DJD.”

Knock Out gave her a horrified look. “Is that…”

“The spark extractor,” she answered.

Knock Out fell silent. Eventually, he said, “You didn’t tell me you brought this.”

“I wasn’t going to tell an ex-con I brought a spark extractor,” she stated.

He paused. “I thought it broke when you used it on the vehicons.”

“We recovered it,” Arcee explained, “and I ran its diagnostics before we left. It still seems functional.”

He was silent again. “You killed so many with it.”

“It was war," she retorted.

Knock Out held her gaze. “Don't Autobots usually ask for surrender first?”

“We were fighting for our planet!” Arcee’s frustration began to build. Was an ex-con seriously giving her the third-degree about the ethics of war!?

“You didn’t trust me enough to tell me you brought it?” he asked. She felt chilled by the questioning look behind his optics. For once, they didn’t seem to burn with any kind of intensity.

Arcee felt uncomfortable by the question. “A lot has happened since I agreed to this. But you’re right, Knock Out, I don’t trust you.”

“ _Still?_ ”

She caught herself and was unable to answer.

“You’re the one that brought the spark extractor,” Knock Out said, looking away with a bitter crease to his mouthplate. “I've done nothing but help you along the way. Have I not proved myself?”

“Look, this is a great conversation we’re having,” Arcee returned sarcastically, “But we’re running out of time. We’re both about to pass out from our wounds and there’s a solution to killing all our enemies in one sweep. This is the only logical-”

Arcee was unable to finish her sentence. A loud thud shook the glass ceiling above them and both she and Knock Out cringed out of shock. Above them, the DJD landed. Neither Arcee nor Knock Out had realised that the battle above them had come to an end and the victors now walked amongst their body count.

The large one with a red ‘x’ across his faceplate let out a low rumbling chuckle. “Savage, brainless prey,” he snarled.

One of the five bots strode forwards and extended an arm.

“That’s the leader,” Knock Out vented, vocaliser barely audible. “Tarn.”

Arcee followed the direction of his arm and saw Airachnid slowly begin to lift herself to her pedes.

“Airachnid,” Tarn spoke. His vocaliser was deep but there was a deadly soothing sound to it, almost melodic and luring. It was the type of voice one expected out of an older, gentler, almost sire-like figure. It was deceptive and terrifying. Yes, she began to understand Knock Out’s perspective. “We have come for you and your crimes against the Decepticons.”

Arcee could not see Airachnid’s faceplate at this distance through the tinted glass, but she did not move. She faced the DJD directly. Surrounded by the dead of her minions and unable to use her spider legs in either spider or helicopter mode, it was clear she was trapped.

The tension of the situation seized Arcee and suddenly it began to dawn on her that this could very well be the end for Airachnid.

“Kaon, bring her to me.” Tarn’s vocaliser was so genial that it sounded almost like a suggestion.

But still, the red one called Kaon stepped forwards and it was then that Arcee realised he had no optics. This must be the one that transformed into an electric chair, for on either side of his shoulders, were two electric coils that crackled lightning as if whispering _yes_.

Airachnid let out a scream and made a bolt towards the exit but the smallest one launched himself forwards into a sprint. Quicker than Arcee could imagine, he beat Airachnid to the exit and simply stood there. His presence alone stopped her in her tracks. Unable to move, Airachnid backed away as Kaon, coolly and slowly, advanced. No escape for her now.

It was then that Arcee realised what was playing out before her very optics. It was exactly the same as when Knock Out had Airachnid pinned and Arcee had to bare witness to a reality that almost happened, one that she could not have allowed happen. It was why she had screamed out to him, to actually hinder him from killing Airachnid.

Arcee knew in that moment, she could not allow anyone else to be the one to end Airachnid’s life. It _had_ to be her. Her sanity, her future and her very spark relied on this. The truth clutched her and shook her violently on the inside.

No.

No, it couldn’t end this way.

No, this wasn’t how the story was supposed to end.

No! This was Arcee’s moment!

“ _NO!_ ” Arcee hissed in a loud whisper. Standing, she looked again to the staircase. She could creep out still, creep out and take a head-shot to Airachnid. Yes, she could still do that before the DJD approached her.

“What are you doing!?” Knock Out whispered back frantically. “We can’t let them see us!”

“But we’re so close!!” Arcee argued, “We can kill her! I can!!”

“I’m asking Ratchet for a spacebridge _now!_ ” Knock Out hissed. “We're wounded, Arcee! Are you mad!? We have the relics, we’re not going to win against the DJD!” He spoke into his comm-link. “Ratchet… Ratchet is that you… who is this…”

Right there, right at the staircase, Arcee could end it all. She barely saw the casting light of the green glow of the spacebridge activate behind her. It was the signal of the end, the signal of now or never!

Arcee ran forwards and with quick light steps, dashed up the staircase in a crouch, a servo transformed into her gun.

“NO!” Airachnid spat. She raised her servos and fired her web shots towards Kaon who incinerated them with his electric bolts shooting from his shoulder coils. “ _NO!_ You’ve got it all wrong! I was trapped here, I’ve been trying to escape! Trying to _find_ Lord Megatron-”

“Your crimes are extensive,” Tarn interrupted her with an almost near politeness, as if giving her a correcting advice. “We will list them all before we begin. There is all the time in the world on this moon and this room is quite hospitable to carry out your punishment.”

“NO!” Airachnid repeated, now more maddened than before. “I will not be taken out by a bunch of reject mechs!” Against the wall, she continued to fire, none her webbing hitting her foe.

Arcee raised her arm, laying on the staircase. Downing her anxiety, she steadied her venting and ushered her spark to stop pulsing so intensely. This was it. As carefully as she could despite the pressure, she focused on aligning her gun with Airachnid’s head.

“Get back!” Airachnid screamed, “If Lord Megatron realises what you are doing here, he will kill you all!”

“Which we would gladly welcome, my lady,” Tarn replied courteously. “Tesarus, play my favourite track, would you?”

And from the bot with the ‘x’ on his face, the one with rows and rows of deadly blades in the centre of his chassis, played ancient, elegant music. The old classical style from Cybertron’s high societies.

“Arcee!”

Arcee was started by Knock Out who had crept up behind her.

“You’re mad!” he hissed, “As soon as you fire they’ll turn around and kill us!”

“No!” Arcee roughly pulled her shoulder out of Knock Out’s energon stained servos. “I have an opening!”

But Knock Out insisted, “She is as good as dead now! No-one can escape the DJD, let’s go.”

“I can do this!”

“They have her, we won!” Knock Out again attempted to pull her back towards the active spacebridge portal down in the command centre behind them.

“ _I have to do this!!_ ”

Suddenly, she felt optics on her. She and Knock Out turned and looked ahead at the security room’s exit.

The smallest member of the DJD, the one with the mask who had run ahead to block the exit from Airachnid’s escape, was staring directly at them. The only feature on his faceplate were his two red optics and they pierced in Arcee’s direction. Chilled by the haunting emptiness of such a burning red, Arcee froze. But she realised they looked past her, and rested on…

Knock Out. Behind her, he too could not move. For the little, purple DJD member looked straight, not just at him, but at the little emblem, the Autobrand, on Knock Out’s chassis. The two locked optics.

Knock Out looked faint. He reached out and grabbed Arcee by the servo, his own shook with the fear that consumed him. More forcefully, he started to pull her down the staircase.

“ _Let go of me!!!_ ” Arcee twisted her servo out of Knock Out’s grasp but he reached forwards again and this time grabbed her securely by her waist plating. “I have to! I can do it, let me shoot!!”

“ _He saw me!_ ”

And in a calm motion, the little purple bot raised his arm and took aim. In a quiet shot, he aimed at Arcee’s helm. Only he hadn’t judged for Knock Out pulling her down the staircase. If he had, then she would have certainly been dead. But instead, the shot hit a metal beam above her that impacted into her helm, blinding her and sending both her and Knock Out crashing down the staircase.

“Vos? What is it?” she heard Tarn ask above. “What are you shooting at?”

Optics blinded, audios ringing and helm aching, Arcee felt someone tug at her and wrap their arms around her waist.

“NO!” she cried out, hearing the growing familiar hum of the spacebridge behind her. “Not yet!! I had her! _I had her!!_ ”

Stumbling wildly, Arcee continued to fight against the pull despite unable to see anything, her vision nothing but a blinded white light no matter how much she shuttered her optics.

But even then she knew it was over. Her chance gone. She felt the hold of her waist release and sudden she could no longer hear the jumbled shouts and the clamouring of heavy pedes descending a staircase. All she could hear now was the spacebridge, it filled her ringing audio receptors in a forceful hither. It’s over, it roared, no matter how much she denied it.

Perhaps a small part of her allowed herself to fall backwards into the light. Maybe it was the firing of a laser whisking by her helm or the fact that, as her vision returned, she could see that their exit was now cut off.

She refused to consent to the reality, but the spacebridge swallowed her despite her desire. It stole her away from what had been the last chance and robbed her of what everything in her life had been building up to- that one moment, that one kill that Arcee needed to function for the rest of her life. A chance like this would never come again for her, she knew it.

It was over. What lay beyond the other side of the spacebridge for Arcee, well, it would be her future. But what that future was and what Arcee would become once she passed through the bridge to the other side, she did not know.

The only thing she did know, was that _it was over._

 

**_(The Flashback. . . After the War)_ **

“Uh-oh.”

Arcee was only half listening in on Smokescreen, Ratchet, Wheeljack and Bulkhead’s conversation. All members of Team Prime had gathered on the _Nemesis’_ bridge to begin deciding what their duties would be following the final battle of the war. Stopping Unicron and his undead predacon army from corrupting the Well of Allsparks and the evil bot’s battle to seize the Allspark from Optimus Prime had been physically and emotionally taxing. Yet once the battle had been won, no-one knew what to do next. Everyone had entered their own version of shock and only when Optimus Prime had mentioned about gathering in the _Nemesis_ did all the bots realise it was once again time to take a course of action. They all filed in, talking amongst themselves about what had just happened, some merely walking in stunned silence.

“He’s back,” Smokescreen whispered, who had also spoken earlier. “He talked to Ultra Magnus, then Bee, he’s coming to all of us individually.” All bots watched Optimus Prime stride onto the bridge. “Make a pact that we share what he tells us?” he asked them all hastily.

Wheeljack crossed his arms gruffly and leaned on his good leg. “No need to get all bothered, kid. Probably just telling us why we need to stick together and what tasks he wants each of us to focus on.” He then rolled his shoulders back in a display of restless nonchalance. “Maybe he’s worried _some_ of us are gonna abandon ship.”

Bumblebee walked into the room behind Optimus and the two started talking in hushed tones.

“Bah,” Ratchet shook his helm dismissively, optics still on the two bots by the entrance. “No need to stir the rumours,” he said, “Whatever Optimus is doing, he has his reasons. If anyone needs me, I’m going to be in the medbay transferring files for Knock Out.”

Arcee thought she heard Wheeljack made some sort of disgruntled sound in his vocaliser, but having her back to him, she wasn’t sure.

“Don’t see why you can’t stick around,” Bulkhead finally spoke up. He had remained the most quiet after the final events at the Well. “I’m going to tell you straight up, I don’t like the idea of Knock Out being my new doc…”

“Does seem a bit peculiar that you’d rather hide out on earth,” Wheeljack added.

Glancing over her shoulder at the mechs, Arcee watched as Ratchet strode out of the room without any further response. He didn’t even give Optimus or Bumblebee any sort of greeting as he walked right between them and out the door.

“Scrap, he’s coming for one of us now,” Smokescreen said, the doors on his back twitching. “One of us is next!”

Before returning to the computer, Arcee caught Wheeljack rolling his optics. She had just started to return to the list of supplies on the _Nemesis_ she had been sorting through when she suddenly felt an immense presence shadow her.

“It’s her.” She heard Smokescreen’s frantic whisper. “It’s her, it’s her turn.”

“Arcee,” Optimus spoke, ignoring Smokescreen’s loud whisper. “I would like to speak with you outside... privately.”

Arcee looked from Optimus to the rest of the bots then back up at her leader. “Of course, uh, Smokescreen, would you finish my file organising?”

“Whaaat, file organising-” Smokescreen was jabbed in the side hard by Bulkhead. “Okay!” Sullenly, he approached the computer to finish Arcee’s tedious task.

Following Optimus’ lead, she walked past her team and through the bridge door, leaving them to gossip behind her. Alone with Optimus in the hallway as he lead her outside, Arcee looked up at his massive frame, now, even taller than Ultra Magnus. A lot had changed over the last few orns. Had anyone been able to adjust after being hit by one new change after another? And now, suddenly, they had their planet back, restored even, the Autobots had won the war and even possessed the Allspark. Now with a moment to pause, staring up at Optimus, she realised how real all of it was. She had often talked about this day with Cliffjumper. Only back then, she had assumed he would be there to share it with her.

“What’s this all about?” she asked as she followed her towering leader. She barely reached his waist height. “I don’t understand all the secrecy, you never address us individually, not like this. I mean hey, you’re really making destiny-kid out there freak out like we’re all in trouble!”

Optimus was silent for a moment, then said, still looking forwards. “Arcee, no-one is in any kind of trouble. I wish only to speak with each of you one-on-one. Admittedly, they include topics that are personal to each of you which is why I wish to converse with everyone privately”

“Personal stuff?” Arcee asked. “I’m still in the dark here, Optimus. Is this about the last events of the war?” Hearing her voice utter the phrase “last events of the war” was so bizarre for Arcee.

“No,” he answered, too cryptically for Arcee's tastes.

"Then what?" she persisted, her curiosity of hers increasing. "I don't exactly have a wealth of secrets."

"Come, Arcee," Optimus replied, turning his helm over his shoulder to look at her. "I would like you to see something.”

Curiously, Arcee glanced up at Optimus again. This time, to her surprise, she caught a gentle smile on his faceplate. Soon, she would realise why. 

Outside, Optimus lead her down a path from the _Nemesis_ and towards a rise in the landscape. Climbing to the top, the sight before them expanded into view and Arcee felt herself overcome with emotion.

They stood side by side, both of them absorbing the grandeur of the newly reborn Cybertron that lay before them. The golden russet towers now thrived with glowing hues, welcoming, beckoning its former citizens to return. Iacon was no longer rusted ruins but now an enticing light in the distance. Yes, burning bright, the sky slowly darkening above them and chasing away the burning oranges and yellow of the setting light and to bring the city into romancing hues of blue. Cybertron was the vision of reincarnation, a sight priceless to behold for those that had thrown their very lives on the line to see it again.

“It's beautiful,” Arcee said. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly. “I always held onto this thought, that I would live to see this day. I lost sight of it some days and it began to feel like it would never happen. But here I am and... It just doesn’t feel real.”

“The path to peace has only just begun,” Optimus replied, his tone gentle. “It will not come easily just because we have activated the omega lock and are in possession of the Allspark.”

“But it starts with this,” she spoke, determination filling her on the inside. “This right here,” she insisted, “anything’s possible now.”

After a moments pause, where the two continued to admire their long awaited Eden, Optimus spoke. “I wonder if Megatron too now looks upon Cybertron as we do. I wonder if he feels the same way all Cybertronians must when looking upon the return of their planet."

“I don’t buy it.” She knew her answer instantly. Arcee had been so enamoured with the sight of her city restored that she had forgotten all about Megatron. “He still has to be a threat. He’s a mass murderer- a psychopath, a dictator. He’s committed genocide. He’s not going to stop.”

“I have often contemplated,” he replied steadily, “at what point we stop.”

Arcee stared up at Optimus, completely taken aback. “What do you mean? Stop how?”

His optics seemed glossed over from the waning light's reflection, creating a sparkle in them. “Megatron denounced the Decepticons. At what point do we Autobots also release our role in the war?" He heaved a mighty venting sigh. "When do the Autobots stop chasing?”

Arcee stared down at her pedes, contemplating the question he posed and also wondering if he actually expected a response out of her.

“I don’t understand how you trust Megatron,” she said finally, still looking down. “I wouldn’t. We should never have let him out of our sight.”

She heard him respond, “Trust is not a factor.”

“Then what?” she asked skeptically, giving him a dubious glance.

“I have had my zealous moments,” he returned. He shifted his weight as he recalled the memory. “During the war, I began to feel impatient. We were still new to the war, but not so new that we did not comprehend that it could continue for millions of years yet. I felt the pressure to become more proactive, to take the initiative and stop Megatron once and for all."

"I'm sure you've felt that many times," Arcee sympathised. "I know we put a lot of pressure on you at times. We can't help but look to you for answers, for the end of the war. Can you blame us?"

She wasn't expecting him to return her with such a forgiving smile. "No, I do not. But back then, I was not so used to it." he replied. "I heard the whispers of my comrades and felt their push. It could all be over if I did a little more, if I took the first step and did not just act reactively to Megatron's attacks. So I decided," Optimus shook his helm. Even know, the memory still clearly weighed on him. "to take the battle to him. It was my most regretful decision."

Arcee furrowed her brow ridges. "Why's that? I don't think I've heard this story- even from Ratchet."

"Ratchet knows only his involvement in the story." Again, Optimus looked deeply disturbed. "I regret that he blames himself to this day. He wouldn't either, if I had not been so careless."

"You?" Arcee tried to reassure Optimus' grave mood but giving a small chuckle. "I don't think you have a careless bolt in your frame."

But her jovial attitude did not sway Optimus. "I was not without some caution, or so I thought at the time. The opportunity was there, I needed only seize it at this time. So, to not appear completely foolish, I brought an eager, young scout with me." He paused, gripped by the memory. Already, Arcee was beginning to connect the dots. "If it were not for my recklessness, Bumblebee would never have been captured.” Arcee gasped, she had been right. Optimus nodded to himself. “Ratchet blames himself for not being able to repair his voicebox," he said, "but I blame myself for risking his life in the first place.”

Aghast, Arcee stared up at him. “Optimus, I’m so sorry.”

“It is something that I always carry. Only I know the truth.” He turned to face Arcee, his blue optics piercing hers. “I asked Bumblebee for forgiveness and, far wiser, far stronger, beyond his years, he forgave me almost instantly after his voicebox operation. I do not understand it."

"It wasn't your fault," Arcee added automatically. All the cliches blurted out, "It was an accident, you had no intention-"

"But I knew better than to have such a young, inexperienced scout come with me." Optimus' mouthplate was taut. "I knew it when I made the decision, but I did it anyway. Yet while I still carry the guilt, I have learned to accept my choice. And I extend that to Megatron as well.”

"That?" Arcee asked, suddenly no longer following. "That what?"

"Release," Optimus said simply. Arcee was about to fiercely object when he continued, "I learned then to release the hatred."

Arcee shook her helm profusely, "But he's the reason Bumblebee lost his voice! He tortured him, he crushed his pipes with his own servos! He didn't just want him to die, he wanted him to suffer first!"

"Arcee," was his firm response, "I did not forgive Megatron of his actions against Bumblebee as Megatron did intend to harm him. It was my hatred for Megatron that drove me to lose my sense of ration, and in doing so, endanger another bot's life."

Not wanting to look Optimus in the optics any longer, Arcee focused her gaze on the distant city of Iacon. The glowing light reflected off the towers, dazzling her optics.

"I have learned from that experience," she heard Optimus say. "I now know how dangerous possessing hatred can be, and how it can cloud judgement. Sometimes, even against what I wish to pursue in my spark, I know it is better to let go of old rivalries than to be consumed."

"And what does that mean?" Arcee struggled to maintain a professional demeanor, for bitter emotion began to surface within her.

"We won," was his answer. "That was always our goal. Megatron is not a threat. To follow him now, could result in disaster at the cost of what we were really after." And he waved a servos at the sight before them. 

"And what if he returns and ruins what we achieved because we didn't go after him," she asked, wrapping her arms around herself.

"You fail to understand," Optimus said. His tone deepened and he sounded grave, Perhaps even disappointed. But that could have just been Arcee projecting her own worry. "Would we be who we are if we chose that course? Would we only be prolonging our identity in a war that is over?"

“You speak of identity, but Optimus,” she stammered, wondering if she should reveal such inner thoughts to him. “I don’t know what mine is. What do I do in world without war?”

She was jarred by his response, a statement and not a question. He said, “Your decision to chase after Megatron only enables you to fall back on your identity as a warrior and not out of any sense of justice.”

Surely it wasn’t intended, not from him, but it sure did feel like a slap on the faceplate. “Optimus…”

“The answer is not Megatron.” She found it so difficult to comprehend his tone, especially when he wouldn’t look at her. “Nor anyone else for that matter. I fear you are misguiding yourself, and in doing so, crippling your potential.”

Arcee fell silent, soaking in the advice. “In all fairness, Optimus, we’ve just survived a million year war. How can you expect us to switch this off? All this time we’ve been thinking over and over how to protect our planet, our species. So when the war is over, I am _still_ thinking how to keep us safe, and yes, I am going to still think that with my war-coded processor. Can you expect me to react any other way?”

His response, again, took her by surprise. "Do you remember Tailgate?” 

She shook her helm. “I don’t follow you.”

“Arcee,” Optimus Prime said. His venting sigh wasn’t an impatient one. In it, he sounded old, tired and almost unsure himself. “Very few of us in this war were sparked for it. Tailgate represented all of us- one who had the war thrust upon them. We all led lives before the war, the war found us in the least likely of places. A physician and a construction worker, a librarian and a bot fresh out of newspark stage. We are all like Tailgate, even if war has made us forget.”

She shuttered her optics. “You didn’t mention me.” Optimus didn’t respond. “You mentioned everyone but me. Is that because you don’t know who I was before the war?” Again, no response. Then the thought dawned on her. “I don’t even know what I was back then. I wasn’t a socialite. But I wasn’t quite a scholar either.” She looked up at Optimus, as if she might suddenly find the answer on his faceplate. “If I don’t know what I was before the war- how am I supposed to know after the war?”

“That is up to you,” Optimus responded. “Only with the burden lifted, do you have the ability to create the self that you are inside.”

“And how am I supposed to know who that is?” Arcee questioned. “Or when I become that?”

She was startled by the way Optimus looked at her. Such a questioning look from him made her feel embarrassed by her outburst, even if that clearly wasn’t his intention.

“What if it’s who I am now?” she said softly, averting her gaze. “Somebot I don’t like?”

When Cliffjumper had been around, when they had been together, he had made her feel like she was on the way to knowing this answer. The more he laughed, the more he looked at her with such acceptance and _love_ , even with all her imperfections left on her by the war, Arcee felt herself soar inside. Despite the ongoing war and the pitiful odds against them at the time, she had felt… Arcee lifted her helm, the realisation soaking in. She had felt... content. 

But now, ever since Cliffjumper’s death, this feeling that had been growing wilted, and Arcee had once again been caught up in the rush of war. She had been hardened all over again and what progress Cliffjumper had made on her self was lost. 

“Arcee,” Optimus’ spoke softly. It summoned her out of her revere. “We now have the chance to discover ourselves. Whatever we became during the war, it will always carry into who we will be after. As will who we were before the war. We are a combination of all of our life’s experiences- good and bad. It is our choices that create who we are.”

Arcee placed her hands on her hips, wishing beyond hope that somehow, Cliffjumper could share in their accomplishment. That had been her life’s happiest moment. With him. Was there a way to recapture that Arcee, even after Cliff’s death? If she could have once been that genuine _during_ the war, why was it so difficult for her to recapture that self _after_ the war?

The way Optimus Prime worded his advice sounded so simple and clear. It made sense. And yet if Arcee attempted to apply it to herself, she felt like the advice dissolved in her very servos and the words became another, indistinguishable, language. The fact was, it just wasn't that simple for Arcee.

“Why is it so difficult?” she asked tersely.She felt like her arms weighed ten times what they did and felt a crushing wave of confusion overwhelm herself. “Why can’t I just know who I am?”

“The answer is not out there or anything else you project. It is already within you,” Optimus spoke gently, his vocaliser comforting Arcee’s anxiety. “You must allow yourself to heal before you will realise it. I wish nothing more for you to understand that if nothing else.”

She searched his optics and found such an accepting warmth, one that only Optimus Prime in all his great wisdom could offer so unconditionally. It repeated everything he had just said, only in a nothing more than a simple look. 

She knew he was right, but she also knew it was no simple task. War had affected them all, as it had shown itself when everyone had realised the war had come to end when Megatron had flown away, declaring the end of the Decepticons. 

War would continue to affect them, as Optimus sympathised. But Arcee understood him, and comprehended that even as it would do so, she still had the ability to find herself, if she let herself not be lost to the gripping hold of war. It would take time, she would make mistakes, but it was Optimus’ words that would guide her, provided she remember them.

As the waning glow of light over the city continued to dim, the two bots stood in silence. Each of them considering their own interpretation of their conversation.

Optimus looked down at his chassis. "I must continue my individual conversations with the others," he said. "Arcee, I have every faith in you finding yourself."

Arcee took one last look at Iacon as the two made their way back to the _Nemesis_. "Thank-you, Optimus,” she said, looking up once again into his kind optics. “You seem to know exactly what I need to hear now that we’ve won the war. I won’t forget this conversation.”

Just outside the entrance to the _Nemesis_ , he stopped walking and Arcee met him with a questioning look. “I sincerely wish that you don’t, Arcee. And if you ever feel that you should, look to your friends. Never forget that you are all here for one another. Together, you are a family.”

Arcee nodded firmly. “I promise, Optimus. You’ll always find me here.”

That final smile he gave her only bemused her. It couldn’t have been true, but Optimus Prime almost looked sad. Was there something he knew that she did not? How could there be such a sadness there and yet, such an affirming belief in her at the same time. Finally, he said, just before turning to head back to the bridge, “As will you for yourself.”


	8. The Second Video |&| Prime Time II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcee and Knock Out must now face the aftermath of what occurred on Luna 2. For Knock Out in particular, there is much to deal with. It may even mean being forced to face the past, if he ever wants to find the key to his future...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you so much for continuing to read my story! Next chapter is coming soon!! I appreciate all the comments and kudos. :D

“WHAT in President Washington’s GREAT purple polka dotted pajamas!?”

Knock Out stumbled over his own pedes, crashing through the spacebridge onto the cement ground of Hangar E. He groaned as he felt the cracks of his broken chassis slice against each other, the sharp metal pieces of his frame scratching his internals. Struggling to push himself back up to alleviate the pain, he felt a surge of energon heave from his wound and splat onto the ground.

“He’s wounded!” he heard the voice of June Darby call. “Raf! Jack! Get Ratchet _now!_ ”

“I don’t need-” Knock Out began to argue through coughing fits of energon when he was thrown back to the ground as something came tripping over him. Crashing to the ground next to him was-

“Arcee!” It was June Darby’s son. Fighting to see through his glitching optics, Knock Out saw a blurry Jack do a u-turn and run towards his fallen friend. The one called Raf continued to run as fast as his little legs could take him outside the hangar.

“Lay still.” Knock Out jolted when he felt a small touch on one of his digits. Recoiling, he looked down at June resting one of her tiny little hands on him. “Lay down,” she repeated. Something about her stern voice made Knock Out obey- that or the dizziness whenever he attempted to sit up.

Resting on his side, he watched as June ran from his servos to his faceplate, right in front of his optics. The red glow reflected onto her and he was suddenly reminded of just how tiny these humans really were.

“Tell me what happened.” Again, her voice was surprisingly neutral for witnessing two severely wounded bots tear into what had to have been an average uneventful day at the Hangar. Yet it was as if this sort of situation was common for her.

“I,” he started. He looked down at his wound and tried to cover the gaping hole with his servo. “I just need a patch job,” he grumbled. “I’ll be fine with a sealant and some more energon…” but the ringing in his processor told him he was lying.

“June!” came another voice from behind Knock Out. “Jack says Arcee is talking but she’s not makin’ a whole lotta sense.” The figure came into view and Knock Out recognised him as Agent Fowler. He had been the other human, along with June, that he had, for the lack of a better word, 'commandeered' and locked in his trunk during his days as a Decepticon. “Hmm,” he heard Fowler say. “Isn’t this one supposed to be on the _other_ side? The non-Autobot side? You know, the side that doesn’t exist anymore?”

June replied for Knock Out, “I was told he switched sides. The Autobots accepted him as one of their own.” _That_ was an exaggeration, Knock Out thought.

“Interesting,” Fowler grunted, folding his arms. “Now how can we be so sure he didn’t do this to Arcee?”

“He didn’t,” Arcee called from somewhere behind Knock Out. She managed to vent out between strained gasps, “We were… attacked.”

“By who?” Jack asked urgently. "'Cons?"

But before anyone could answer him, another voice spoke: “What’s going on here-!” Knock Out recognised Ratchet’s vocaliser off in the distance.

“There they are,” Raf said, his voice faint from how far away he was. He sounded anxious and winded, “I received a call from Knock Out asking for a spacebridge. I wasn’t sure, but I bridged them in and they look like they’ve been in a fight! Arcee might be unconscious and Knock Out’s bleeding badly.”

“What in the…” Ratchet’s voice grew closer and Knock Out could hear the sounds of his pedes approaching. “ _What did you two do!?_ Quickly, I-” Ratchet caught himself abruptly in mid speech. Rolling over, Knock Out looked up at Ratchet. The disgruntled medic was staring down at his collection of human pets. Clearly, not the kind of help he was used to having in medical emergencies.

“I’m okay,” Arcee grumbled. She sat herself up. “I was hit by a beam and-”

“Can you walk?” Ratchet urged. He kneeled down next to her and began running some simple diagnostics with an attachment built into his arm.

“Of course-” Arcee didn’t sound so certain.

“Get yourself to the medstation," he ordered. "If you can, sit yourself in those crates. It looks like I’m going to need the slab for Knock Out-”

Knock Out gave a cry of alarm when a bright light was shone directly in his optics.

“Can you follow this light?” Ratchet asked gruffly.

“Yes!” he shouted, pushing away Ratchet’s arm that had transformed into a tool with a light beam. “I’m fine too! I just…” Like Arcee, Knock Out fought to push himself up to his pedes. 

His processor felt like it was going to crash on him and he swayed dangerously, forcing himself to stand upright all while his legs begged to cave out from underneath. The strain of his spark pulsing sent waves of pain throughout his whole system, alerting everything inside him of how critically wounded he really was. 

“Where do you think you’re going!” Ratchet shouted.

Carefully, Knock Out avoided stepping on the humans, who all began to back away from him. Dragging his pedes, he made his way over to the medstation and started fishing through the crates of Ratchet’s supplies. Arcee didn’t even stop him, she just laid against the crates stacked into a makeshift seat and shut her optics. If anything, it looked like she was going into a power down.

Indignant at Knock Out’s behaviour, Ratchet angrily strode over and attempted to push him away from his supplies. “What are you doing?! Let me help you! By the allspark, your chassis has been torn open! I can see your _spark!_ ”

Shielding his wound with a servo, Knock Out pushed back against Ratchet. “I just need a patch kit!”

“A patch kit!? It's a wonder you are even conscious! Get onto the medslab, you’re getting your energon everywhere!" Ratchet snapped back. "You're not my only patient here- I need to check on Arcee too so _sit down!_ ”

“I’m a doctor too!” Knock Out retorted stubbornly, “I know what to do!”

Ratchet made a series of indiscernible noises. “I’m not arguing that you don’t. Now _sit down and let me treat you!_ ” Completely shocked by his actions, Ratchet slammed his servos onto Knock Out’s shoulders and guided him forcefully onto a medslab. “Stay!” he commanded. Laying down made Knock Out realise just how much pain he was really in. 

Continuing to grumble inaudible things to himself, Ratchet began fishing through his supplies and pulled out a temporary patch. Still muttering, Ratchet applied it quickly, but expertly, to Knock Out’s wound. Grabbing some wires, he hooked them to central points on Knock Out’s helm and one as close as possible to his spark chamber.

“Don't move,” Ratchet said in a huff and turned to run diagnostics on Arcee.

“Is there anything we can do to help?”

The humans had made it over to the medstation. Jack, who had spoken, ran towards Ratchet on the catwalks. “Should we contact Bumblebee?”

Alarm bells went off in Knock Out’s processor. He attempted to keep his apprehension in check, but Ratchet responded before he could.

“No, that won’t be necessary.” Ratchet didn't even turn to address them as he read the screen displaying Arcee’s test results.

Knock Out had seen her hit with that beam above the staircase and he worried her processor might be experiencing some temporary corruption. He strained to read the results over Ratchet's shoulder. Arcee definitely had some damage, many severe gashes and had lost a lot of energon, but nothing Ratchet wouldn't be able to take care of, he assured himself.

He laid his helm back, satisfied with this knowledge. If something lasting had happened to her, Knock Out would probably be the one with some explaining to do.

He wondered when Ratchet might actually start asking questions. He wouldn’t be distracted by their dire conditions forever. Would Arcee say anything? If neither of them did, would Ratchet report them to Bumblebee? He grimaced at the thought at having to explain himself. What would they do to him? Strip him of his probation? He shuddered at the thought of being locked up again.

Looking back at Ratchet, he watched as Ratchet left Arcee and headed to the computer hooked up to Knock Out.

“Close your optics…” was one of the last things Knock Out heard him say. Whatever was going to happen to him regarding his little adventure, he’d have to find out after a little power down nap…

 

Apparently, he had needed more than just a simple patch job. Looking down at his wound, Knock Out had undergone an extensive welding and molding to his spark chamber and chassis. He must have been under for a long time to have had so much work done to him. Even his spark felt like it was pulsing normally again. To wrap it all up, a steady healing patch had been applied to the fragile area where the gaping hole in his chassis had been.

His processor awoke slowly. Although he still remembered everything, he felt as if he had been unconscious for orns. Even if his wound looked like it was on its way to repair, his whole frame still ached, having craved a power down and rest from all the action and torture combined he had endured.

Looking across the room, Knock Out realised he was alone. There was only Arcee, still powered down on the crates, her diagnostics running at a normal read on the computer. Whatever Ratchet had done to her, she was now well on her way to recovery. Ratchet was elsewhere and the humans were nowhere to be seen. Maybe he and Arcee would be able to return to Camp Autobot without anyone knowing the wiser. As if it had never even happened.

But it did happen. Instead of returning with Airachnid's decapitated helm and her sparkless frame in tow, he returned with more questions than he had left with. Knock Out had expected himself to be more thrilled upon his return. Yet there was no celebratory thrill coursing through his frame for finally killing the bot who had not only killed his lover, but had seduced him as well. Instead, Knock Out lay there on the berth, overwhelmed by a most haunting a thought. The thought that consumed him the moment Airachnid had whispered it in his audio receptors. 

Breakdown’s spark.

Was he really still alive? Did his spark really still exist? Or was it another one of Airachnid's twisted games? But why would she lie to him right before she knew she was going to snuff Knock Out’s spark?

Knock Out paused a moment to feel his spark. It throbbed gently within his chamber, conveying its slowly healing status. But that's not what Knock Out sought from it, what he wanted to search his spark for was the sparkbond.

He had been in torment after being told of Breakdown's death, drowning in grief and guilt because, as far as Knock Out was concerned, he had felt no change in his spark. There should have been a monumental sparkbond rift, especially for how long they had been bonded and how often they merged. But beyond feeling no change, he also felt a sense of nothingness. There was no tear from Breakdown's spark nor was there a sense of Breakdown's presence. It was a nothing limbo that he could not explain, no matter how much he researched or pondered it.

So would Breakdown's spark existing outside his frame be the answer? Spark chambers weren't supposed to be removed from a bot's frame. It was dangerous and Knock Out had very little knowledge about the subject.

It almost didn't matter if he believed Airachnid was telling the truth. Just the tiniest notion that if Breakdown was still out there, his spark chamber hidden somewhere on Earth, then Knock Out had to find him. Just imagining being with Breakdown again made Knock Out's spark pulse fiercely with determination.

Filled with motivation, Knock Out pushed himself off the medslab... only to crash back in the same position. Nope. He wasn't going anywhere any time soon. Groaning from the aching feeling all throughout his frame, Knock Out looked to his diagnostics on the computer, interpreting them.

"Feeling awake?"

Startled by the voice, Knock Out looked around but saw no-one.

"I'm up here," June Darby said.

A strange statement to be told to by a human, Knock Out looked up to his left and saw the human leaning on the scaffolding catwalk.

"The view's kind of nice up here," she commented, almost playfully. "Not often I get to look down on one of you."

"Physically, not figuratively, I hope," Knock Out replied, willing a smile onto his faceplate. Even that felt sore.

June just shrugged. "Ratchet's in one of the other Hangars with the boys." Boys meaning the humans, Knock Out surmised. "He wanted me to check on the both of you periodically."

"Because you have longer legs to run back and forth?" he implored.

"Because I've had medical training," she replied loftily. Then she gave a small chuckle, "Although, for humans, not for Cybertronians."

Knock Out regarded her. "Are you a doctor too?"

"A nurse," she corrected with confidence.

"Ah, no wonder you were so calm when the both of us came stumbling through the spacebridge," Knock Out said. "I was impressed by your cool exterior back there."

"I've dealt with worse," she responded matter-of-factly.

"So I take it we're both going to live?" he said as a joke.

June raised an eyebrow. "Just be grateful Ratchet isn't going to beat you up for returning in such terrible conditions. I think the two of you gave him a heart attack... or spark attack, I guess you’d say."

"Well I commend you for your aid," Knock Out said. "I had no idea this whole time you and I shared a similar profession. You keep getting more and more interesting, June Darby."

"I could say the same for you," June returned. "I didn't know you were a doctor. Did you save many lives as a Decepticon?"

Knock Out looked to the side, covering a remembering smile. "I guess I did. Although I admit, I specialised more in the taking apart then the putting back together of bots."

"Taking apart?" she asked bluntly. "What does that mean? I know you're robots so it's not the same as taking apart humans but..."

Knock Out held her gaze, seriousness overcoming him. "When the higher ups put you in a room with a bot and say get this information out of him or we'll kill you or somebot you care about, you do what it takes ensure the safety of yourself and those close to you. Wouldn't you agree?"

June sat down on the catwalk, resting her arms on one of the lower guard rails. “Someone close to you?”

“Of course.” Suddenly, flashes of his conversation with Cylas surfaced. He recalled how the human and not been able to comprehend the concept that Cybertronians could have feelings, let alone feelings for one another. Was this so difficult for humans to understand? His vocaliser came across as bitter, “Decepticons have the capacity to care, believe it or not.”

She surprised Knock Out by saying, "Maybe it's a bit hard to believe. But then I don’t know much about Decepticons, what I know is through the Autobots. I mean, I've never seen _you_ around anyone except for Arcee…”

“It’s _not_ Arcee,” he butt in quickly.

“Didn’t think so,” she chuckled. “Is she on Cybertron? Did she join the Autobots too?"

"Hm?"

"The bot you care about,” June elaborated. “Was that why you needed the predacon bone so badly when you put Fowler and me in your trunk? To protect her?"

Knock Out laughed brashly. "To protect myself!" He cackled some more. "Megatron would have ripped out my t-cog if I had returned empty-handed." Again, he chuckled when he saw June roll her eyes. 

"Well forgive me for thinking there was some depth to you!" she exclaimed with exasperation.

"To be honest..." he furrowed his brow ridges in contemplation. "I thought he didn’t survive the war. But now… I don’t know what to believe."

June winced, "Oh wow, I shouldn't have presumed. My bad.” Knock Out simply shrugged. “So!” she continued, “What was he like?"

He stared at her, taken aback by her genuine question. All the bots, and most of these humans, knew who Breakdown was- or thought they did. They only knew him through the war, as a Decepticon on the opposing side. Thus, they already had their processor's made up of who he was. Even Arcee, who Knock Out could tell, had difficulty believing he was sparkmate material. Or himself too, for that matter. Simply because they were 'decepticons'.

Taking a moment, Knock Out closed his optics and searched his spark for the memories. "He was the reason I survived this war. I woke every day just to see his optics and that stupid grin of his. Hm, yes, he was so strong... inside. It always astounded me. Even after everything we had to deal with in the war, it was there every time he’d look at me. A strength I didn’t have. At least not without him.” He paused and faced the she-human. “I think most don't, or choose not to, see just how caring of a bot he was.” A bitter crease formed around his mouthplate. “But he's gone now."

"Jack's father walked out on us," June said quietly. Shocked by her honesty, he looked up at her, reading her body language for clues. She had a half smile but there was still a hidden sadness hiding in her eyes. "We don't know where he is either. I was hoping he'd at least stay in contact with Jack."

"You should have hunted him down," Knock Out supplied.

June gave a laugh at his remark, "Maybe I should have, but unfortunately, there are ramifications for things like that here on Earth.”

He wasn’t sure what made him poke further, but his curiosity spoke for him. “Why did he leave?”

Caught off guard, June’s eyes widened and she looked down at Knock Out speechless. “No-one actually asks me that,” she said.

“Touchy subject?” he asked.

“Sort of,” she responded with a sigh, still soldiering through with that half-smile. “It’s the usual story, we were young- _really_ young- made some decisions we thought we were capable of making and I guess he couldn’t handle them in the end.”

“I think you and I are more alike than you think,” came his quiet response after a moments pause.

“I shared my story, care to offer up yours?” June suggested.

But Knock Out turned his helm away from her. “There isn’t much to say,” he lied. “Besides, it’s quite similar to your own.”

“But similar in which way?” June questioned, leaning back, “I’m not entirely sure how it works with your species but are you suggesting it involves children?”

Now Knock Out turned to face her. He stared at the small human looking back at him curiously.

“Well you said our stories were similar and when we talked earlier about family...” She shrugged, “I know you have sparklings for young but-”

“I’ve taken quite a liking for you,” he cut her off, still calm. “It’s a shame we got off to a really rough start.” Pausing, he found a spot on the ceiling of the hangar that somehow captivated his interest. A long, slow vent exuded from Knock Out. “You are quite acute. But between you and me, yes, I owned one briefly.”

“Own?”

“We own a sparkling, then it transforms into a newspark,” Knock Out explained, “And when they’ve collected enough data to transform into adults, we typically all go our separate ways. If the sires even stick around once the newspark is undergoing their final transformation that is. It’s less 'parenting' and more a 'brief amusing passtime'."

"That's a harsh way of looking at it," June commented roughly.

Knock Out nodded. "But a little less emotionally taxing for our kind that have such long lifespans."

June pursed her mouth. "I suppose. So you're not in contact with your... offspring is it?"

"No."

"So you 'don't care' what became of your offspring? Do you even know what they look like?” her tone became a little more accusatory and he shifted uneasily. “A name even?"

"Does it really matter?" came his abstract response.

"Well,” she said harshly, “by the responses you give and how secretive you are about it, it does matter to you."

"June,” he replied critically, “our kind live for so long and we have none of your DNA to pass on. There are no animal 'instincts' as you humans say to protect young- no desire for family. It's a necessary societal duty that you can entertain yourself with if you choose.” Knock Out vented out a sigh. “Nothing more.”

“You chose,” June pointed out.

“Not exactly,” he returned.

“Plastic break?” 

Running her tone through his databanks made the comment sound like a joke but even after searching his inner dictionaries on human language, he couldn’t come up with a translation for that question. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’ll clarify as a question,” and he noticed how June struggled to keep a smile off her face. “How do Cybertronians accidentally own a sparkling?”

Knock Out mulled the question over, not even quite sure how to respond himself. “I guess you could say 'finders keepers' applied to the situation” he shrugged.

June raised an eyebrow, “‘Finders keepers’? Sure. But there’s also a thing called a lost and found where you can bring lost items. You didn’t, right? You still chose to keep.”

“ _He_ chose,” Knock Out firmly amended. 

“‘He’ being…?” June asked.

“The bot I care about,” Knock Out explained. “He chose. And I chose him.”

June fell silent. He was startled that she was staring at him so intently. “So you chose to stay,” she clarified.

“Yes,” he answered, unsure of how firmly to reply to that.

“I don’t know,” she said. He found it difficult to read her expression. “I’m not sure I buy this whole, ‘no family instinct’ thing.”

Knock Out gave her an almost patronising look. “We are autonomous bio-”

“Save it, heard it,” June interrupted. “I’ve seen the Autobots and how they interact. I’ve heard them call one another family. Just because you aren’t _mammals_ doesn’t mean you don’t have instincts to care for one another.”

“I’m not arguing that-”

“ _Including_ for young,” she finished with a cocky grin. Ah, was that what those grins looked like? Knock Out thought. It felt different being on the receiving end of one of those. “You chose to stay when it sounds like you could have left if it hadn’t been your decision to keep it.”

“I cared for my partner,” he retorted.

“Alright,” June let out a sigh. “Schematics aside, you’re telling me that you didn’t care about this kid you had?”

Knock Out rested his helm back down on the medslab and stared at that same spot on the ceiling. “Not really. But I will admit my curiosity has caught a hold of my processor as of late.”

She said softly to herself, “I always wonder if Jack’s father ever thinks the same thing.”

“I didn’t leave,” he interjected.

“But if you have the opportunity to reconnect, isn’t that the same?” June paused, it was if she didn’t know the answer herself. “Do you have that opportunity?”

And before he could answer her back, someone else did for him.

"You should tell him."

Both startled by the interjection to their private conversation, June and Knock Out turned to Arcee.

She faced him. "I saw the image card.” 

_Scrap!_ The image card! It had been in his chassis and Ratchet had just finished operating on him in that area. Quickly, he looked down at his chassis and to the right and left. There on Ratchet’s workstation was his image card, faced down. Ratchet must have seen it. A quiet frustrated snarl appeared on his faceplate.

“And you should tell him," Arcee repeated. In a swift motion, she ripped off her diagnostic cables and pushed herself off the makeshift crate table and, thankfully, not even bothering to gather the Iacon relics laying on Ratchet's table. With a noticeably aggressive stride, Arcee headed to the spacebridge, activating it.

"Not going to check in with Ratchet before you go?" June called. Brazen, giving Arcee's apparent attitude.

“You can tell him I’m checking out,” she called back, refusing to look at either them. As the spacebridge powered up, Arcee transformed into her alt mode.

“Where are you going?” Knock Out called out to her.

Arcee turned her handlebar towards him. “Somewhere I’m not!” And they watched as she vanished into the spacebridge, back to the _Nemesis_.

June turned to Knock Out. “What did she mean by that?”

He grimaced uncomfortably. “Unfortunately, I don’t think even she knows.” 

Distracted, he cast another look to his image card on the table. He had successfully lived a private life up until he had joined the Autobots. Now, it seemed that all of his secrets were spilling out uncontrollably and he was forced to face them, however much he tried to push them away, every day. Inwardly, Knock Out longed to return to a time where secrets were kept, and Breakdown was at his side, the two travelling on their own doing their best to ignore the war around them. 

But now faced with the complete opposite, Knock Out struggled to do his best to keep himself afloat. Only now, there was that teasing hope Airachnid had given him that he might be able to return to such a time. 

Breakdown could still be alive.

Feeling the call from both his frame and his spark, he turned to June and excused himself to slip into one final power down before he promised himself to do everything he could to find his sparkmate. 

 

Back in his own habitation suite, Knock Out sunk into the bench. He exuded a long, slow vent of air. He had a canister of hi-grade energon in one servo and his helm in the other. 

After that power down, he awoke alone and came to the decision to leave before Ratchet returned. The taunting image card on the work table reminded him that Ratchet was yet another bot now privy to Knock Out’s private self. Not wishing to be faced with that or the ‘who, what, where, when, why’ of his and Arcee’s escapade to Luna 2, Knock Out left the remaining relics with Ratchet, snatched his energon prod and activated the spacebridge.

In retrospect, he could have gone anywhere. It was his chance to run away from these pestering Autobots and start over. He’d be lying if he hadn’t thought of it even as he set the coordinates for the _Nemesis_. 

Tapping the top of the canister with a digit, he turned to face the entrance to his former berthroom. Taking a swig, he hauled himself off the bench and into the room. 

_His_ room, the one he never went in anymore, not since he had found out that Breakdown would not be returning from his duty with Dreadwing to kill Airachnid. Ever since Lord Megatron had so bluntly told him to hurry up and get to fixing his damaged frame and that his assistant would _not_ be coming to help him operate, Knock Out had discreetly requested time away and locked himself in Breakdown's room. He had to consume himself with all of Breakdown's things, everything about him had still lingered in that room, as if it was all waiting for the large construction bot to come back any time. Knock Out had been surprised by how much time Lord Megatron had let him have to himself. It wasn't enough, but at least he had been granted something. Megatron had to know the true nature of their relationship. Or maybe Knock Out just wasn't needed for awhile.

Entering his own room, he caught himself just inside the doorway and lingered. He stared at everything, exactly how he had left it when he and Breakdown had their argument and that patchwork resolution that had been their fragging around in the berth.

As Knock Out walked past his vanity, he noticed the glass of poured hi-grade energon still on the table. The one that Breakdown had pulled it away from him at the time to stop Knock Out from falling on one of his typical crutches. Well, if only Breakdown could see him now- and he placed the hi-grade bottle on the counter next to the glass.

Standing in front of his three-way mirror, Knock Out looked himself over. Scratches and dents were everywhere. That tacky patch Ratchet had applied still stuck to his wound and all the scars Airachnid had dealt to him still marred his frame. Lifting a digit, he scratched lightly at some of the dirt and grit sticking to his once glossy frame.

He hated buffing himself. Mostly because it forced him to realise Breakdown was no longer there to do it for him. That time where his frame had been utterly destroyed by the car in the earth city's underground, it had devastated him. Not just that he looked horrific, not just that it stung physically and not just because it destroyed all of his hard work of keeping up his appearance, but because it forced Knock Out to understand that Breakdown would never be there again to help him buff.

Or would he?

Before the mirror, Knock Out carefully removed Ratchet's patch. Placing it on the vanity table, he overlooked the healing wound where Airachnid had attempted to pierce his spark chamber. Her digits had cut into his spark, but not enough to extinguish it. Enough to cause it to caterwaul and make him black out, but thankfully, he had skipped out on death. Knock Out slid his shoulder panels back and his centre chassis opened up to reveal his healing spark chamber. Through the still merging cracks, he could see the colour of his spark shine through. Opening the chamber, he looked into his own spark.

A fiercely glowing red, it shone back at him. He looked it over as it sat within his chamber. Was the connection to Breakdown still existent? Was it still yearning to be with its other half again?

Knock Out was a doctor. And he knew very well he was not experiencing any of the symptoms of a sparkrift. It had driven him mad, he yearned for it and craved the consumption so badly because he had no idea how to move on from Breakdown. But if his spark was still out there... then it would all make sense, wouldn't it? Breakdown could still be found, his spark returning to his frame..! Just as that thought crossed his processor, he could feel his spark exude a small surge in delight.

Even if it was a lie, Knock Out would never pass on a chance to see that yellow spark again.

Hastily, Knock Out closed his spark chamber and sealed his chassis, applying Ratchet's patch back to continue its slow healing process. Leaving the hi-grade bottle behind, Knock Out dashed from his room into Breakdown's. In a flurry, he turned on the light and shoved all of the toys and datascrolls off the counter to make room for this new research. He was going to find Breakdown no matter what it took!

Eagerly awakening the computer, Knock Out searched for some datapads to begin taking notes on. But just as he sat down and was about to begin, he came face to face with the list of videos. The ones Arcee had been going through. She claimed she had just watched one, the one about Airachnid. But it was a different one now that caught his attention.

_SS_056_

He stared at it.

" _You should tell him._ " Arcee had said.

“ _Do you have that opportunity?_ ” June had asked.

“ _That is between the two of you, should you choose to make yourself known._ ” Optimus Prime had suggested.

Slowly, Knock Out once again opened his chassis, only this time, to pull something out he had stowed away. It was the image card Airachnid had been mocking him with. He had stored it back in his chassis after taking it from Ratchet’s table as he didn’t want it in his servos if he ran into any Autobots on his return to his suite. The newspark in the photograph grinned back at him. Knock Out resisted the urge to ball his servo into a fist and smash it just like he had done to the other one. No, he wasn't even angry anymore. 

Again, he turned to the file name SS_056 and clicked it.

" _Happy test completion yaaaaay!!!_ "

In the video, Knock Out watched himself, the pre-war-self, the one with the wings, sit at a large square table across from Breakdown. They were in a small private room that was only large enough for the table and the benches that ran all around it. A door slid open and a serving bot brought in some more energon chips, exchanging the bowl for the empty one then just as discreetly, took his leave.

"Here, bud!" Breakdown laughed, both of his yellow eyes glinting with good cheer. "Eat up!" With a massive servo, he reached into the serving bowl and scooped out a bunch of the energon chips. He picked one up to crunch on before sorting a few into his other servo to give to the little newspark that sat next to him.

With small grabby servos, the newspark reached up above its helm for the energon chips it was being given. Happily munching and drooling all over them, it gave a shrill electronic sound of delight. Content, it stared up at Breakdown who turned to face Knock Out.

"That went a lot better than I thought it was going to," Breakdown continued. "And you thought you were gonna get another strike on your record."

Knock Out in the video swallowed some energon and leaned back in his seat, his wings pressed against the wall. "I won't believe it until the test results come back and they give the approval," he said.

"Nah, it'll be fine," Breakdown chuckled. "They just want us to do things the 'right' way or whatever. You know, dots and crosses on the legal documents. That kinda thing."

"We’ll see," Knock Out said, staring into his mug.

"To be honest," Breakdown continued, crunching on a few more energon chips. "We owe a lot of thanks to that guy at the desk. I wonder if they would have even allowed us to apply if he hadn’t just given us the stamp then and there."

"Which guy?" Knock Out asked, looking up.

Breakdown reached for some more chips. Excited at the prospect of getting more, the newspark dropped the ones it held and began to tug eagerly on Breakdown's arm. He looked down at the newspark and shook his helm, amused.

"The red one," he said, handing the newspark a few more chips to suck on. "You know, the one with the horns. He said he’d keep an eye on the application."

"He did seem a bit worried when he realised I was also applying," Knock Out said, and he fluttered his wings for added emphasis.

"Yeah, but that was the hard part," Breakdown waved a servo and reached for his own drink.

"Input!" The newspark squealed the word and again dropped its energon chips in eager abandon. "Input, input!!"

Breakdown watched the newspark from the corner of his optic as he drank. "Hand him one of those datapads you brought," he said.

"He's gone through them all already," Knock Out replied and vented out a sigh. He reached for one the datapads and handed it to the newspark.

The newspark took the datapad and began sweeping through the basic information. Even if it could not read yet, it was clear the way its optics swept the pages, that its processor was recording everything for when it transformed into an adult.

"We need to go to the hall of records tonight," Knock Out continued, "and get some more datapads for him."

"You know," Breakdown said, "the clerk at the library said he might be close to transforming." He paused, looking pensive yet tentative. Looking down at the newspark, Knock Out watching the video could see the concern clearly on Breakdown. The Knock Out in the video on the other hand, was busy tallying up the bill. Breakdown finally spoke, "Do you think he'll wanna stay with us?"

Knock Out looked up at him, then to the newspark and back again. "Who knows," he said. "You didn't stay in contact with your sires."

Breakdown shrugged. "Nope. I think I work with one ‘em at the construction company but I don’t know who. But you," and he turned to the camera, clearly speaking to the future newspark who he expected to be watching this video. "Are welcome to stay with us, or stay in contact or whatever!" He turned to Knock Out, "Right?"

Knock Out shut his optics and nodded, "Naturally."

They both looked at the newspark who had grown tired of scanning data and began to haul itself onto the table. Transforming into a makeshift sphere, it started to roll across the table excitedly.

"What do you 'suppose his alt mode is gonna be?" Breakdown asked, watching him pinball into the glasses. He reached out to stabilise the glasses from spilling. "He doesn't look like he's gonna be big like me. I reckon he'd have wings already if he was gonna fly like you."

Knock Out reached out and plucked one of the little thin metal wings of the newspark that had been sticking out of it's sphere mode and pulled it off the table. Wailing in distress that its fun had been interrupted, it transformed in his hold and started to squirm.

"I'm not sure," he mused. Knock Out reached for his other little 'wing' so he held one in each servo, dangling above the table. "But these things on his back certainly aren't going to be flying him anywhere anytime soon."

"That's what I'm saying," Breakdown nodded in agreement. With a final swig, he finished his drink. "Maybe those are gonna be doors or somethin’? You don't think his having seeker codes and my bot codes is gonna mix up whatever his alt mode is gonna be, do you?"

Knock Out shot Breakdown a ' _are you kidding me_ ' look for that remark, then turned back to the newspark he held. Transforming one of his servos into his drill, he churned it slowly and edged it close to the newspark who reached out for it. Knock Out pressed the drill gently against the newspark’s chassis and it emitted cheerful beeps and wiggled. 

Knock Out chuckled, “Made ya squirm.” 

Fidgeting, the newspark managed to again transform into that disjointed sphere in Knock Out's grasp. Startling Knock Out, he dropped him onto the table where it rolled over to Breakdown.

"Besides,” he thought aloud, “it’s quite possible he already has some codes from the Distribution Centre.”

"No way," Breakdown shot back almost defensively. He reached down and attempted to pry the newspark out of his ball mode. "If he did, he would have transformed from a sparkling to a newspark when I gave him my codes at the site. He didn't transform until after you supplied yours at home."

Knock Out shuffled over to the wall and switched the dial to indicate they were ready for their bill. "Well, whatever he turns into, he's going to be full of energy."

Breakdown laughed, still trying to get the newspark to open up. Giving up, he placed it down where the newspark promptly transformed back into a bot and emitted another shrill sound of happiness. It began to crawl across the table and towards what remained of the energon chips.

The door slid open and the same serving bot as before appeared, placing a small datapad on their table. He looked from each member of the room to the other, uttered a quiet 'thank-you for coming' and left.

As soon as he had placed the bill on the table, Knock Out lunged for the datapad but Breakdown beat him to it and smacked his servo down ontop of it, dragging it over to himself. 

"It's on me tonight!" he said with a big grin. While Breakdown provided his payment details on the datapad, Knock Out grabbed the newspark around the middle and dragged it away from the bowl of munchies. It didn’t seem to notice, it only continued to suck on the chips it held.

“Alright, let’s end this. Wave good-bye,” Knock Out picked up the fussy newspark off the table and pointed him to the camera. The little white newspark stared into the camera with his bright blue optics. His red and blue accents glinted underneath the light. Knock Out waved at the camera and the newspark mimicked his action.

Knock Out watching the video remained emotionless. He watched as Breakdown, too, waved at the camera. Plucking the newspark from Knock Out's grasp, he lifted him onto his back behind his helm and jostled him lightly to make the newspark laugh. Then Breakdown spoke his last words on the video:

"Say good-bye, Smokescreen."

"Input, input!!" newspark Smokescreen cheered.

Laughing, the Knock Out from the past leaned forwards and ended the video. Now, the current Knock Out stared at the black video screen, his own weary self reflected back. 

It had only been a few million years ago, sure. But suddenly, Knock Out felt as if he had aged more than twice that from when the video had occurred. Too old and too tired to deal with any of this. They had long since thought Smokescreen had died just as the war had started.

But how shocking had it been when Lord Megatron called Knock Out to the medbay and there, strapped to his medtable was very clearly the Smokescreen he had known all those years ago, the Smokescreen he had provided his codes to and taken care of. Only now, he was an adult.

Smokescreen had the same colour scheme, the same accents and design traits. Knock Out could see the stylings from himself and Breakdown in the subtlety of his design. The newspark that they had thought was dead was now there before him, staring at him with contempt.

Knock Out had to quickly compose himself, and think of a solution to save him from being dissected. If it hadn't been for the phase shifter, Knock Out wasn't sure what he would have done. But after his Lordship had left the room, Knock Out had ensured to walk with the phase shifter close enough to the strapped down Smokescreen, to ensure he could phase it off of himself and thus think he had saved himself. Knock Out hadn't been expecting to be placed in a wall though.

But now what to do? He drummed his digits on the counter. If Breakdown was alive, and Knock Out brought him back, he would be confused as to why Knock Out hadn't told Smokescreen about who he really was. Should he really approach Smokescreen? What did it matter, he had said to June. To which she had responded with “ _Do you have that opportunity?_ ”. Then there was that pesky ‘ _you should tell him_ ’.

Why? What for?

Most Cybertronians parted ways with their sires. Most not even knowing who they were. Only the elite kept their heirs close, only if their codes could provide them further status. Knock Out would never even know who his countless sires were. Being a seeker by origin, any number of seekers could have provided codes to him and those in his nest when he had been a sparkling. No, June did not understand, ‘parents’ were not the same on Cybertron. It wasn’t a _family_ , it was status and continuing the species.

Besides. Smokescreen clearly hated him.

So! That was decided. Growling to himself at the thought of being so distracted by something he convinced himself he did not care about, he pulled his datapads towards himself. Instead, he thought of Breakdown and thus engrossed himself in trying to piece together where his lost sparkmate could be. Far more important.

But where to begin? Turning his attention back to the computer, Knock Out began to access the _Nemesis’_ log files. Hopefully, he still had access to them. He wasn’t sure what the Autobots would have done with the files, but surely they hadn’t deleted anything. 

Thankfully, they hadn’t, and Knock Out was still able to go into the duties and missions directory Soundwave always updated. Scrolling through the files, his optics obsessively darted from one title to the next. Already, he could feel his spark thudding against his spark chamber as the realisation of being closer to finding Breakdown increased. 

There.

The mission of Airachnid’s termination. Going into the file, he repeatedly tapped his digit against his mouthplate as he scanned the information for any sort of glimmer of being just one more step closer to finding him.

The only information relevant was where they had groundbridged to- a continent on Earth called South America. Pulling a datapad close to him, he wrote the location down in his native language. More specifically, they had been groundbridged to a country named Brazil. Why was that familiar to him? He grimaced in thought as he struggled to remember where he had heard of this Brazil before. 

He was so close to figuring this out… He returned to the list of missions and anxiously re-read all the titles. There! The one directly underneath Breakdown’s last mission:

Brazil was where Megatron had gone to face Airachnid’s challenge! 

That’s right, not long after Breakdown and Dreadwing had been recruited to kill Airachnid. Megatron had received a message from the traitor. Now Knock Out had been working in the medbay with some vehicons at the time, but what he knew was that joors later, a severely wounded Megatron, with Dreadwing, had burst into his lab demanding his attention to help repair the mighty Decepticon Lord.

Knock Out looked up from the computer and his processor raced as he recalled the timeline. Where Megatron had battled with Airachnid’s insecticon was not far from where she was supposed to have been killed, which was Breakdown’s last known location. 

He felt his servos tense on the datapad he held. So within that time, which wasn’t long at all, Airachnid must have hidden Breakdown’s spark. It was this location that Knock Out would begin his search.

Instantly shooting up from his seat in excitement, Knock Out barely remembered to grab his datapad with all the information he just recorded as he raced out the berthroom.

In the main suite, he suddenly caught himself and wavered where he stood.

 _Scrap._ He wouldn’t be able to go anywhere.

Cursing to himself, he rolled his optics. He still didn’t have spacebridge access. The blades on his shoulders wilted from the diffused energy. There was only one way Knock Out would be able to continue his search and, given her attitude the last he saw of her, he wasn't so sure how willing she'd be. Knock Out honestly hadn't given Arcee much thought since he had checked her diagnostics and known she was going to be fine after all the battle wounds she received on Luna 2. He had far more important things to think about, that, and he wasn't quite sure how to address this Autobot who was suddenly angry at him.

“Arcee?” he called into his comm-link. “Arcee are you there?”

At first there was radio silence, but then, “What?”

“Arcee!” Knock Out lit up at her response, oblivious to her aggressive response. “Where are you right now?!”

There was another pause. Finally, Arcee responded with a terse: “Why?”

“I think I know where Breakdown’s spark is!” he blurted out in excitement. He dropped the datapad in his exuberance and began to animatedly pace the suite. “I was doing some research and there’s only one area where it could be- but I need you to activate the spacebridge so we can-”

“ _We?_ ”

Knock Out froze. “Well, yes,” he said through a waning smile. “We went to Luna 2 together, so-”

“Knock Out, I’m busy working with Bulkhead and Smokescreen right now-”

“You didn't tell him, did you?” he blurted out.

“That’s _your_ job," she snapped.

Knock Out clicked his glossa in frustration, “If you would come by my suite-”

But still, she was being obnoxiously resistant. “I have work outside to do-”

“I can’t go outside,” Knock Out countered, still twitching his digits nervously. All he could think about in this moment was finding Breakdown. “If you would just-”

But Arcee was firm, “I need to get back to work.”

“ _Please._ ”

She was silent for so long that he wondered if she had dropped the communication between them.

“Arcee..?” he spoke, feeling himself beginning to sink a little towards the floor. “This is important... to me.” Realising that he was beginning to soften, he quickly masked his desperation. "Look, if you don't, I'm going to find a way to do this one way or another-"

“Calm down. I’ll be there in a few,” she said brusquely. “But I’m not promising anything.”

A wave of relief washed over him. “Thank-you.”

“Noted.” And she closed the communication between them.

Exhaling a long vent, Knock Out stumbled over to the bench, sinking into it. He looked down at the datapad in his servos. 

This could literally be it. Right now, as Knock Out sat in his suite on the grounded _Nemesis_ on a restored Cybertron, Breakdown’s very spark could be on Earth, just sitting there within the spark chamber, waiting all this time to be found. Knock Out didn’t even care about the final events on Luna 2 anymore. Truly, almost none of that even mattered if Breakdown was still alive. 

There was only one thing in his way, and that was a specific petite blue femme’s sudden stubbornness. 

Airachnid had been dealt with. Wasn’t her death just good enough for Arcee? That was what their goal had been. Although Knock Out had not seen Airachnid die before his optics, there was no way Airachnid would have been able to survive that-

He heard the suite’s door chime gently ring.

Anxiously, Knock Out approached the door and allowed Arcee inside. 

“Alright,” she said, a hand on her hip. “What do you want to discuss?”

Knock Out stalked around her, observing her frame language. It would be difficult for him to keep his anger in check, which he would need to if he wanted to persuade her to help him.

So first things first, he would address her apparent grudge for him. He flat-out asked her, “What happened?” 

He was surprised by Arcee’s own shock at his question. She shuttered her optics and recoiled slightly. “What?”

“You, this,” and Knock Out waved his arms at Arcee. He took a few steps back, putting distance between the two. “What’s wrong with you?”

Arcee’s brow ridges almost flew off her faceplate. “Wrong with me!? _You_ didn’t stick to the plan!”

Knock Out was at a loss for words. “Plan!? What plan!? The plan was to kill Airachnid! Were we not successful?"

Arcee whipped around, not willing to face him. “You don’t get it, do you!?”

“No, I really don’t!” Knock Out exclaimed.

“You almost killed her-” Arcee began to pace, waving an arm expressively. “I would have had her if it weren’t for-“

“For what!?” he pressed, standing still. He was both confused and beginning to tire of her tantrum. “I saved your life from the DJD!”

“No,” came Arcee’s shocking response. Knock Out could not comprehend where her belligerent attitude was coming from. “ _I had that shot._ And you stole that from me! _I_ went to Luna 2 to _kill Airachnid_ and that didn’t happen did it?”

Knock Out twitched his digits, unsure how to react to such an insulting statement. “You blame me?” he asked, suppressing a snarl. “You blame me because you didn’t get to deliver the killing blow?”

But she completely deflected him. "I was _this_ close to killing her, and you stopped me- you pulled me away! I had the shot!"

He too shuttered his optics in shock. "Well, I was about to kill her in front of you if you hadn't interrupted me when I had her pinned down! You would have had a front row seat but instead you opted for her to pierce my wound again!"

But this statement did not calm her down. Instead she whipped around at him and jabbed a digit at him. "Yes! You had no right to take it that far! We never agreed to that-"

"We didn't agree on anything!" he countered, still baffled. "The plan was to just kill her- we didn't discuss that one of us wasn't allowed to partake!"

"You don't understand-" she insisted. " _I_ had to do it!"

He shook his helm defensively. "You really hold it against me because you didn’t slice her pipes yourself!? I fail to see how this is my fault. Why isn't her death good enough for you?"

But Arcee had once again turned her back on him. This time she didn't respond and Knock Out stood warily, wondering if he should approach her. He wasn't so used to dealing with other bots on such an emotional level. All he needed from her was spacebridge access, but if he was honest with himself, he had expected her to come along and aid him. He hadn't been expecting this to be her reaction after their return to Luna 2. Perhaps he should tell her-

"Knock Out," she finally said. "I'm not going to help you."

Knock Out felt like all energon drained out of him. "Why not?"

"Because," Arcee, servo on hip, turned around. Suddenly, she looked so cold and unfamiliar. Like she was the Autobot dictating her authority to a Decepticon prisoner. "I don't believe Airachnid was telling you the truth."

Or she could have just slapped him on the faceplate.

"I think," she continued, "that you're covering for the real issue here."

" _Real_ issue?" he scoffed, "Do tell, what's the _real issue?_ "

Arcee crossed her arms and looked up at him loftily. "That you should talk to Smokescreen."

"No," he said reactively. Knock Out felt his whole frame tense. As usual, he smirked to cover his disdain at the conversation. "Why in the Pit would I do that?"

"Because you've got that image card of him!" she threw her helm back in exasperation. "You're... connected to each other! You're his sire!"

"Who are you to tell me what I should and shouldn't do!" he burst out. "Your 'Autobot Authority' doesn't extend this far! This is seriously getting ridiculous, Arcee..."

"Why are you so afraid of telling him the truth?" she asked.

"Let me tell you something," Knock Out felt his optics begin to flare from anger. "You've been spending too much time around these humans. Their concepts are beginning to meddle with your memory of how things work on Cybertron. Let me remind you, it’s a little different on the lower caste levels and staying in contact with newsparks isn't exactly the norm. He and I have no ‘connection’. What is happening between him and I right now is _normal_.”

Arcee took a step towards him and again jabbed at his direction. "Don't make judgements about me," she snapped. "I know how things work and I also know we're very few working together. You keep whining that you aren't included with the rest of us, well here's a chance for you to make a connection and join us- if that's what your true intentions really are!"

Knock Out stormed away from her, striding to the other side of the bench to try and get away from her as much as he could. “‘My true intentions’!” he let out a mocking laugh. “What do you take me for! Some sort of spy? As if I have some secret agenda to joining your side? Don’t make me laugh! Shouldn’t Optimus’ approval be good enough for you?”

“This isn’t about Optimus,” Arcee retorted. “This is simply about _you_.”

“And what do you care about _me!?_ ” Knock Out snarled. “This is my life, my secrets!”

“’What do you care’, ‘you don’t know me’,” Arcee parroted, enraging him. “You say that a lot! You know what I do care about? That you have somebot here that you have a connection with that you could approach- but you won’t. At least you have somebot here! I have nothing! This was my last chance to-”

Knock Out was flabbergasted. “You! _You!?_ You have _everybot here! _You told me yourself they’re your ‘ _family_ ’. I have lost the _only_ bot I ever cared about in my entire life! Arcee, I told you how much Breakdown means to me.” He felt his spark began to heave with the anxiety of the argument. “I _never_ tell _any_ bot what Breakdown was to me. But I shared this information with you. I told you I was not just involved with him, but that he was my lover and my sparkmate, something I’ve never told anybot. Now… now I have the opportunity to find him again!” His vocaliser cracked tersely. “Help a bot out and aid me in finding him!”__

__“You should know better than to trust Airachnid,” Arcee replied._ _

__“I opened up to you because I thought you and I were the same!” Knock Out snapped back fiercely, feeling the crushing fear that she may not help him after all. “If it were Cliffjumper and you me, wouldn’t you?”_ _

__“I’d talk to Smokescreen!” Arcee insisted._ _

__Her flat-out refusal astounded him. Knock Out dipped his helm down to obscure his furious expression. He clenched his servos tightly. “If I talk to him will you help me? Will you help me get spacebridge access, return to Earth and find Breakdown?”_ _

__The momentum in their argument came to a standstill as Arcee wavered. She stood, still angry but it looked to Knock Out as if reason was coming to her. If she said no, then he was at a loss at how to return to Earth. Frag, he’d blast his way to the spacebridge if he had to, for Breakdown._ _

__“Yeah, okay,” she said finally. “You talk to Smokescreen. Tell him the truth and sure, we can go find Breakdown’s spark- if it exists.”_ _

__“Do you promise?” Knock Out pressed._ _

__Arcee looked disgusted. “Of course. I’m an Autobot.”_ _

__“Yes,” Knock Out agreed bitterly. “Autobots seem to favour giving others ultimatums. Why? Why make me talk to him first?” He couldn’t even say the name out loud._ _

__“Because maybe you’ll come to reason,” she said sternly. “Like I had to when Cliffjumper died.”_ _

__Knock Out smirked through his inner disgust at her response. “Just be ready to set up the Earth coordinates,” he replied, too cooly to be believable. “Now go get me that Koenigsegg. It’s been too long since I’ve indulged in a little race.”_ _

__

___**(The Flashback. . . After the War)** _ _ _

__

__Knock Out hadn’t been expecting guests. No-one had really spoken with him in the aftermath of what had just occurred only a few joors ago. Not only had no-one spoken with him, but no-one had even seemed to have noticed how he had slipped away, excusing himself to retreat to his suite on the grounded _Nemesis_ , now under Autobot control. Even if the war was over, it’s not like Knock Out really had anywhere else to go._ _

__He had enjoyed a lengthy shower, a long stare in the mirror and then a glass or two of hi-grade while he flicked through some human television shows he had siphoned while the _Nemesis_ had been in Earth’s orbit._ _

__Only when his processor began to wander and he found himself no longer focusing on the show was he suddenly shaken from his thoughts by the chimes of his suite’s doorbell. In the brief walk between the bench and the suite’s door, Knock Out began to wonder what he would do if the Autobots wanted to arrest him. Could he make a break for it? Maybe try and smooth talk his way out of it?_ _

__It shouldn’t have been a surprise, and yet, it was. Looking up, Knock Out caught himself in a gasp realising that it was Optimus Prime himself. He stumbled on his words._ _

__“Uh, um, uh, come in,” Knock Out stepped aside, still gaping up as the new and bulked up Optimus strode into his suite. Knock Out watched as the prime stood in the middle of his suite, his imposing gaze sweeping across the room, from the mini bar with empty hi-grade canisters, to the questionable datascrolls strewn across the bench table and the human horror television show still playing on the main screen, then finally back at Knock Out._ _

__“Oh, uh,” Knock Out fought to overcome his shock and moved towards the mini bar. “Can I get you anything?”_ _

__“No, thank-you,” Optimus gestured a polite decline. “I don’t have much time, but I wish to speak with you before I return the Allspark to the Well.”_ _

__Knock Out nodded slowly, pretending to understand. “Why me?”_ _

__Optimus' optics had a way of pinning Knock Out to the spot, rendering him unable to move even a digit. “I am taking time to speak with every member of my team before I must depart.”_ _

__“Okay…” He still wasn’t catching on. This was the first he had heard of Optimus Prime leaving the rest of the group. “Including me?” He added hastily, “Not that I’m complaining or anything!” he chuckled nervously. "I just didn't think we'd have anything to speak of! I am joining the winning team, after all..."_ _

__“That is actually why I wish to speak with you," Optimus said almost too ominously. "You wish to join the Autobots, do you not?"_ _

__Knock Out was still caught off guard. "Yes..."_ _

__“Even despite your options?” Optimus questioned._ _

__Knock Out faltered, optics darting. “My options? I’m afraid I don’t understand, your… uh… what do the Autobots call you? Your 'Primeship'?”_ _

__Optimus smile was one of near amusement. “Just Optimus is fine.”_ _

__“Well, Optimus Prime,” Knock Out stood tall, sizing up his new leader. "I don’t quite understand what you’re getting at by ‘my options’. Clearly, I’d rather be ‘part of the team’ than in the prisons again.”_ _

__“It was your choice of words that I find concerning,” Optimus Prime said and Knock Out leaned with his back against the mini-bar in a false comfort. “That you wanted to join ‘the winning’ team.”_ _

__“Too blunt?” Knock Out asked. “I figured I might as well make it obvious before it was thrown back into my faceplate.”_ _

__Optimus looked down at him, a severe expression on his faceplate. “You only wish to join the Autobots because we won? But do you understand that now that the war is over, there is now more options than at the start of the war. If you so wish, you could choose neither side, and be free from any obligations.”_ _

__Knock Out stared back, Optimus' words soaking in. “I could,” he said finally. He flashed a crooked grin, “Do you not think that it didn’t occur to me to drive off between then and now? Before you denied me access to the bridge, I could have used the spacebridge and gone anywhere I wanted. But I stayed here,” he brandished a digit to the ground. “Dutifully. Like a good Autobot. Wouldn’t you say?”_ _

__“You have given your decision much thought?” Optimus asked._ _

__"Look,” Knock Out took a step forwards. He said insistently, “I didn't just decide to join the Autobots in the moment that Starscream had the upper servo. Yes, okay, so when he yelled at me, I decided to help within that moment, true. But the thought of trying to get out of the Decepticons had crossed my processor multiple times before. I risked my life taking action early!”_ _

__“As Ratchet told me,” Optimus agreed._ _

__“I _literally_ turned my back, allowing your medic the means and time to escape the _Nemesis_ along with the information that I knew would save him and the other Autobots from Predaking’s wrath.” Knock Out jabbed a finger at himself. “So don’t I deserve a little more credit?! The tables weren’t exactly in the Autobot’s favour back then either.”_ _

__Optimus was silent for a moment and Knock Out started to wonder if Optimus doubted him. Finally, Optimus broke the silence. “And what is it about the Autobot ideology that draws you in now as opposed to the start of the war?”_ _

__Knock Out let a laugh that even surprised himself. “Ideology? _Please._ ” He smiled in amusement but wondered if he was pushing his luck too much in the presence of a Prime. “I understand you’re the leader of the Autobots, but you can’t honestly tell me you think all bots on Cybertron picked a side based on _ideology?_ ” He paused a moment, noting that Optimus did not return his comical mood. He folded his arms across his chassis. “I’ll be honest with you, I only joined the Decepticons because they were _winning_. At that point in my life, it was as simple as survival.”_ _

__"All of Cybertron chose a side based on survival,” Optimus said, shifting his weight. “And yet each still chose a side.”_ _

__“lf it makes you power down easier,” Knock Out waved a hand at himself. “Breakdown and myself never branded ourselves with Decepticon insignias. It worked in our favour and saved our lives more than once.” He regarded Optimus carefully before adding, “Perhaps by that standard, you could say we were never truly Decepticons?"_ _

__Optimus said nothing and Knock Out resigned, looking away, unfolding his arms. "No" he continued, "I am a Decepticon. If that’s what you want to hear, then yes I fully chose their side- but, again” and he determinedly met Optimus’ optics and insisted, “Only because they were winning! But now, I am ready to join the Autobots."_ _

__“And wear the Autobrand?” Optimus questioned._ _

__“Of course,” he smirked smoothly, “but with a little resignation, only because it clashes with the design balance of my frame.”_ _

__“It won’t be an easy decision to join us,” Optimus explained. “Many will continue to resent you- even those in my team.”_ _

__“Ah, right,” Knock Out nodded, his vocaliser dripping with sarcasm. “Because Autobots only kill for good, yes? I forgot how black and white the world is for an Autobot. I’ll do my best to change my world view.”_ _

__He wondered how Optimus would take that comment. But the mighty leader of the Autobots, mister pure good and can do no wrong surprised him once again. “In war, we will all find ourselves face to face with decisions we may not normally decide in our daily lives and our morals come under scrutiny. However, no-one, Autobot or Decepticon, can be excused for their actions. Unfortunately, yes, some members of my team would do well to remember that.”_ _

__“Anyone who would have anything to say of me would have long since died on my operating table,” Knock Out spoke, his voice dripping with a sinister tone familiar to an older self. “But I will reiterate, everything I’ve done in this war was to live another day. For myself, and for another. I’m no Megatron. No Starscream. I thought the Autobots above all would understand.”_ _

__He searched Optimus for any sign of agreement, but to his frustration, found none. “Anybot,” Optimus said with what seemed like a tired sadness, “can claim the reason for their actions as for survival, as Starscream often does.”_ _

__“I’m nothing like Starscream!” Knock Out felt himself tense. He felt a surge of hatred towards the bot. “Don’t you dare insinuate that!”_ _

__Optimus voice was stern, "Knock Out, while the will for survival has pressed our kind to its darkest depths, it has also forced some of us to reach our greatest potential, as is the Autobot ideology."_ _

__“I only want to live!” Knock Out insisted fiercely, “Why is this up for debate? I've killed, you've killed, we've all done scrap in this war. Decepticons, Autobots," he waved his servos dramatically, feeling frantic, "you and I both agree it's not a clear cut. I'm not the worst of the worst here, Optimus! I’m joining the Autobots, I'll even wear the Autobrand! What more do you want?"_ _

__And yet Optimus still looked disconcerted, completely to Knock Out's bafflement. "A-are you denying me?" he flat-out asked the prime. Knock Out looked about himself in apprehension. "I can walk away, the war is over. But I'm joining the Autobots, doesn't that mean something to you?"_ _

__"It does," was all Optimus said._ _

__Knock Out stared up at him, bewildered and desperate. "You have to accept me! I... I'm a doctor, I can be of use!"_ _

__"Tell me," Optimus again shifted his weight and Knock Out took a step back in confusion. "Why the Autobots, and not neutrality?"_ _

__Knock Out's mouthplate opened, but no sound came out. He looked down, around and back to the ground. He furrowed his brow ridge and curled his digits into a fist. "Because to not join the Autobots," he said, choking on the words, "I would be alone." He met Optimus' optics. "Even here, on probation, is better than going nowhere alone. You must understand, I have spent most of my lifetime next to another bot. Isn't that what you Autobots strive for?"_ _

__"And what is that?" Optimus asked calmly._ _

__"I don't know," Knock Out nearly snarled, struggling to articulate his thoughts. "You all pride yourselves on your teamwork and a sense of all being together! And malign Decepticons for all being sparkless individuals. So look at me, I had what you all have as a Decepticon. Now I don't and I don't want to be a Decepticon. I lived it and I do not wish to experience it alone any longer. Let alone spending the next few vorns on this warship with Starscream! Let me have what you have. It's..." he gritted his dentae, a rush of embarrassment seizing him. "It's all I have."_ _

__"All you have?" Optimus asked, he took another look around Knock Out's suite. Knock Out felt himself being judged and hated that the current state of his suite did not reflect his typical self. Then what Optimus Prime said next shocked Knock Out to his spark. “Do you speak of somebot in particular on my team that you find of importance?"_ _

__Knock Out froze. He felt a wave of dread overcome him when he realised, albeit slowly, that Optimus knew one of his secrets._ _

__“How do you know?” Knock Out fought to keep himself calm._ _

__“I recall you,” Optimus said simply. “From before the war.”_ _

__“I never knew you,” Knock Out responded bluntly._ _

__But Optimus shook his head. “No, not as I am now. Before I was a Prime, I was an archive clerk in Iacon’s record hall.”_ _

__“There were many librarians in Iacon and this was millions of years ago.” Knock Out placed a hand on his hip. He narrowed his optics. “How can I possibly remember you?”_ _

__“True, but there were only a handful of seeker guests in the record hall,” Optimus replied. “But I remember a certain red one, who would bring his newspark to the daily newspark input program while he went to school with his friend.”_ _

__Knock Out curled his mouthplate in retaliation and found great interest in the sharpness of his claws. “Some memory you have.”_ _

__“To be quite honest,” Optimus elaborated, “this only stands out to me because of the significance of a conversation it sparked between myself and a past friend.”_ _

__The angrier Knock Out became with the conversation, the less vested he was in it. “And what kind of conversation could this seeker and his fledgling could have started between you and this friend of yours?”_ _

__“Indeed, my friend opened my optics to the plight of the seekers, to all those in the lower castes." Knock Out fought to not roll his optics as Optimus recalled this long ago memory. "As a mech sparked to high caste bots and working at the Iacon library daily, I did not know much of what went on in the world. At least, not until I met her."_ _

__“Glad I could have inadvertently helped in your class system education,” Knock Out sneered. “So I suppose you told him about me when you had your little one-on-one talk with each of your little followers?”_ _

__“No.” Knock Out looked up at Optimus curiously. “I would not overstep my bounds,” the Prime said. “That is between the two of you, should you choose to make yourself known.”_ _

__Knock Out felt the energon drain from his faceplate. He searched for an answer he wish was there but knew wasn’t. “He doesn’t remember me.”_ _

__It wasn’t a question, but the great prime responded as if it had been. “No. If he does, then he shows a talent for deceit that I do not believe he possesses.”_ _

__Knock Out looked at the floor, suddenly feeling both flushed and ashamed. He had already known this answer. He had known this the moment he discovered Smokescreen was still alive and was strapped to his medical table. A surprise gift from Megatron. There had been no recognition in Smokescreen’s optics._ _

__“All for the better,” Knock Out finally said. “I can’t imagine most Autobots being thrilled to know they essentially come from Decepticon origin.”_ _

__“Smokescreen has much to learn,” Optimus nodded his helm. "But with-"_ _

__“No," Knock Out said, tilting his helm back in a casual manner, again playing with his claws. "He's content, I'm content. He put me in a wall, I put him in a wall. A typical sire and heir relationship, yes?"_ _

__Optimus' response wasn't immediate. It was almost like he had been distracted by something else in his processor. But eventually, he nodded. "It is between the two of you. I only wish to understand your intentions of joining us. That is all."_ _

__"Then rest assured, Prime," Knock Out stood tall and proud, hand back on hip. "My intentions are completely valid."_ _

__"Decepticons will question you," Optimus said._ _

__"Then I'll deal with it as it arises." Knock Out shrugged._ _

__"As an Autobot."_ _

__"I have no interest in the Decepticon cause, I never did," Knock Out said. "Perhaps their ideology, as you say, once interested me as you know I came from seeker origins. But we both know the claim for equality has long since left the Decepticon rallying cry. I chose them to survive and, millions of years later, here I am. I'm safe, with all three options in front of me: staying with the Decepticons, going neutral, or becoming an Autobot. I've made my decision." He took a bold step forwards and patted his chassis. "Brand me then. I'm joining the winning team. The word 'winning' being in the optic of the beholder," he grinned, "To which, for me, means much more than just winning the war."_ _

__For the first time, a smile appeared on Optimus Prime's faceplate. This provided Knock Out with an immense sense of pride and he did not falter when Optimus took a step towards him. A grin of delight crossed his faceplate as Optimus extended a welcoming servo, ready for him to shake. Never in his wildest thoughts would be have thought a bot of such importance would ever want to shake his servo. Perhaps there was something admirable to this Optimus Prime after all?_ _

__“Well then, Knock Out,” Optimus said, “may I be the first to welcome you to the Autobots.”_ _


	9. 2 to Deja vu |&| 3 Separate Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Knock Out confronts the past, Arcee focuses on herself, finally settling on her own conclusions during the Luna 2 adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you to skywinder and komiv for leaving comments on the previous chapter!! And to all others who gave it kudos and bookmarks!<3<3<3 It means a lot to me! Special thanks to grayseeker who helped me bounce some ideas for this chapter (check our her fics too!). Next chapter will get the ball rolling on the next adventure for these two- stay tuned, there's more secrets to uncover! :)

“Where do you think they’re going?”

Arcee was startled by Bulkhead’s question. She had been so consumed by her own fury plaguing her the moment she had returned from Luna 2, that she was lost in herself. As soon as she had awoken, leaning against the crates in Hangar E, hooked up to Ratchet’s monitors, Arcee recalled every detail that happened during their maddening escape from Luna 2. And with them, every emotion.

Waking to a conversation between Knock Out and June Darby (as surprising as that sounded) talking to one another in hushed tones infuriated her, being forced to listen as Knock Out selfishly spoke of not caring about his connection with Smokescreen. Yes, she had seen the image card- how Knock Out in that photo, admiring what Breakdown held with what could have only been pride. What had previously been smashed was now revealed unmistakably to be newspark Smokescreen. Arcee listened to Knock Out brushing this aside, yet he persisted in his complaints that nobot was willing to accept him. 

All Arcee could think of was everything she had lost in that moment just before she had fallen through the spacebridge. In that moment, she had lost not only Tailgate and Cliffjumper but, most certainly, herself as well. At least Knock Out still had somebot, no matter how much he denied it. In doing so, inadvertently ridiculing Arcee for her complete lack of self. That’s how she reasoned it, at least.

Following Bulkhead’s line of sight, she noticed he was watching the two race cars zip off into the direction of downtown Iacon. 

“Ultra Magnus sent Knock Out on a trial mission with Smokescreen,” she lied absent-mindedly. Lifting a servo to shield her optics from the light, she observed the vehicons on one of the ramparts they had built. So far, they were making quick progress repairing the old Waves estate where they hoped to house returning Autobots and set up a camp. Arcee was sure she wasn’t the only one tired of living in the _Nemesis_.

“But just them?” Bulkhead asked. Curiously, Arcee noticed Bulkhead furrow his brow ridges, clearly disconcerted. 

“What’s wrong with that?” she returned, her processor still not focused on Bulkhead’s inquiry.

“I don’t know,” he exuded a venting sigh, and rubbed his massive helm. “Don’t trust him, I guess. He’s pretty shady, a Decepticon, you know…” but it sounded like a rambling list of makeshift excuses. 

“Smokescreen will be fine.” Arcee studied the diagram of the estate’s layout on the datapad she held. Even though she stared at the grid in front of her, it slowly all began to blur. 

The sounds and images began to flash before her- how she had Airachnid right in her aim, so vividly and clearly, she could see Airachnid, standing frantic and terrified by this alleged DJD. All Arcee had to do was pull her trigger and her blast would cross the room in less than an astrosecond. It was so clear to her as she stood on the estate grounds, she could even recall her own spark's pulse rhythm at the time, how it had been the only thing she could hear- a near-silent whisper urging her to just shoot- until Knock Out's hails had burst her moment. 

She blamed him. She blamed Knock Out entirely. He hadn't thought about her at all! Not only had he interrupted her when she had been about to blow Airachnid's helm off, but how he had pinned her down and pounded on her with his saws and nearly slice her faceplate into two- and he would have, if Arcee hadn't interrupted her. For as much as Arcee needed her dead, Arcee _had_ to be the one to do it even more. 

And she would have. It had all been there, laid right in front of her, she should have ended it all right there. Finally, she could have achieved her persistent quest for her post-war identity. But it had been the bot- the former Decepticon- that she had placed her trust in, that had taken it from her. 

Now, she didn't know what to do.

Growling in fury, Arcee gripped the datapad so tightly, her digit pierced the glass.

Hearing the crack, Bulkhead looked up from the girders he had been gathering. “Arcee?” he asked tentatively. “You alright?”

“I’m _fine_ , Bulkhead,” Arcee snapped back. She had been directing her anger at herself, but there was no way for Bulkhead to know that. 

He walked up next to her, girders underneath his arms. “I dunno, you don’t look fine to me,” he said. “Anything you want to get off your chassis? You’ve been real, um, on edge, since you’ve returned from your stay at Ratchet’s.”

Arcee double shuttered, “Ultra Magnus told you? What’d he say?”

“Oh!” Bulkhead looked nervous, “was he not supposed to say anything? Wheeljack was looking for you and Magnus just told him you were going to be at Ratchet’s for awhile. I mean, it’s okay, Arcee,” he smiled at her kindly. “We’ve all been going through a rough time since, well, you know Optimus and the Well and all that. We’ve all needed our breaks here and there. Nobot’s faulting you. Jackie’s just…” he struggled to search for the right word, “himself.” He chuckled, walking towards the pulley by the manor.

Arcee looked down at her pedes, feeling a little embarrassed. She tried so hard to keep everything inside herself, never letting her teammates see her deteriorate. But even with the false implication that she had needed to hide from them and her duties at Ratchet’s shamed her. 

What was it Knock Out had said? He had pointed everybot out to her- Wheeljack, Ratchet and others, showing her their cracks and pointing out how they were all barely holding together. They had been like that too. But what awaited them on Luna 2, he had insisted, was going to fix them, raise them above what infected all of them and provide Arcee with a cure.

Now with that option was lost to her forever. Whether Airachnid was still alive or not, Arcee had no way of knowing, nor any way of ever finding out. Either way, Arcee would never have any closure. Just the thought of living like this, forever, made her want to sink to her joints and give up. Her legs had buckled and she leaned on one of the heaps of girders for support.

She looked up at Bulkhead from across the estate. Recalling pre-war memories, Arcee could almost envision the alien plant life decorating the pathway leading from the gateway to the entrance but it had all long since been destroyed in the early days of the war. Now, nothing but barren ground stretched the great walkway, creating a pit for her to sink into. The distance between her and Bulkhead was wide and barren and surely, it started to feel like the distance was increasing. She looked away, dizziness swarming her. 

How could these emotions inflict her in such a way? She was stuck with them, and now with Knock Out no longer hiding from the one connection he had left, forced into the situation by her own servo, she had nobot else to relate to. Suddenly, the isolation hit her.

“Arcee?” Bulkhead implored. “You feeling alright?"

She stared at him when a sudden realisation hit her. Perhaps she wasn't as alone as she thought she was. Arcee blurted it out: “How did you feel when Breakdown died?”

Bulkhead dropped the beams in shock. “W-wha? What are you talking about, Arcee?"

But Arcee felt impatient with Bulkhead's confused disposition. She repeated herself, "When you found out Breakdown died- how did you feel? Did you feel..." she struggled to pinpoint just the right word, "Satisfied? Like... it was all over and done? Like you could move on?"

She realised she was being uncharacteristically persistent with no apparent reason why, at least for Bulkhead. But she didn't care, she was so sick and exhausted of feeling this way. The need to end her obsession with killing Airachnid amplified beyond any further means of coping. Even performing a monotonous day to day task such as this was impossible. Instead of returning to feeling like she was the Arcee she was meant to be, she felt shattered with her only fix escaped right within her own digits. The realisation that peace would never come to her swallowed Arcee whole and trapped her in a monumental sensation of hopelessness.

So perhaps Bulkhead had an answer. After all, Breakdown had been Bulkhead's rival and Breakdown had died. Surely Bulkhead had the answer that could potentially cure her. 

"Of course not, Arcee."

She jolted in shock, snapping out of her obsessive thoughts.

"What?" she choked out.

And Bulkhead met her with a most bothered expression. "Satisfied, Arcee? Nah," he shook his helm, walking towards her, "How could I feel satisfied, learning that some human was wearing his dead frame like a puppet?"

"No," Arcee corrected insistently, "Not about that! But about him just being _dead_. Isn't that what you wanted? He was your _rival_." Just like Airachnid was hers.

To her surprise, Bulkhead just stared at her. "I thought so," he said finally. "Breakdown did a lot of awful things and said a ton of scrap. Yeah, he was my rival, I should want him dead. Dead and gone and that should’ve made everything feel better.” Bulkhead let out a long, deep, rattling venting sigh. “But, Arcee, a long time ago, he was also my best friend.”

Arcee’s optics shuttered. “You never told us that.”

Bulkhead shrugged a massive shoulder joint. “I don’t advertise it, I guess,” he said. “But I said we go way back. And way back, we were best buds.”

“Like…” All of the tension building up within Arcee diffused at this point and she felt her frame relax. “Amica endura?”

Bulkhead looked to the side. “Aw, come on, you’re making it sound all weird ‘n scrap. I mean, we hung out all the time, we lived and worked at the same company. We got along best out of all our buds, went out drinking and-” he hesitated staring at Arcee looking embarrassed.

But she scoffed. “Hitting up all the femme-clubs, I guess?” she said slyly.

“Mech stuff, you know,” and Bulkhead let out a raucous laugh that cracked a small smile on Arcee’s faceplate. Then he shook his helm and rubbed his chinguard. “I still remember all the crazy stuff we’d get up to…”

“Hi-grade and crystals?” she supplied suspiciously. 

“Nah, well, yes to hi-grade! But we were clean,” Bulkhead chuckled again. “You see… I remember all the good times, but I remember all the stuff he did after that too. Stuff I can’t ever forgive him for. So… I dunno if I’m glad he’s dead.” He paused a moment to blink. “Not 'glad'. I don’t know what I feel-” and that exact sentence resounded inside Arcee. “But I’ve been thinking about it an awful lot lately.”

Arcee inclined her helm. “Why’s that?”

But Bulkhead turned from her dismissively. “Just, uh… Changes to our roster, that stuff…”

“You're talking about Knock Out?” she asked.

Bulkhead faced her again seriousness consuming him. “He’s not making it easy.”

Arcee contemplated this. Knock Out clearly knew Smokescreen, and when he had spoken to Wheeljack, there was an air of familiarity- was Bulkhead another bot on Team Prime the Decepticon was familiar with? So she asked Bulkhead, “You know Knock Out too?”

“I know him well enough,” Bulkhead responded ominously.

"Like when? For how long?" she continued to prod.

Bulkhead looked away, looking resistant. "Pre-war stuff."

"Because... of Breakdown?" she concluded. Bulkhead merely nodded. “Sounds like someone might’ve been the third wheel,” Arcee commented dryly, hoping to uncover more details.

Bulkhead shifted uncomfortably. "I'll say. One of us."

Was Bulkhead indicating that he knew Knock Out was more than just, well, 'partners' with Breakdown? Could that even be what drove Bulkhead's friendship to become a rivalry? Had Knock Out come between them? "So you didn't get along?" Arcee asked. "Even though you were both friends with Breakdown?"

"Don't know if I'd word it that way..." Bulkhead vented out a sigh, "Look, Arcee. I know he's a part of the team, but let me put it this way: I don't much think Knock Out would like to reminisce with me and the feeling’s mutual.”

All the anger directed at Knock Out for ruining her moment had slowly diffused over the course of her conversation with Bulkhead. Especially as she began to recall her prior chat with Knock Out about his motivations for also wanting Airachnid dead. He had lost his sparkmate. This he had opened up to her, trusting her with this personal information. Arcee had seen the hurt in his entire frame as she asked him personal questions about Breakdown. No matter how much Bulkhead declared his hatred for his his former friend and the third wheel to Bulkhead's friendship, Knock Out's true feelings for Breakdown were strong. She wondered if Bulkhead knew this and she wondered why she blamed Knock Out so much for wanting Airachnid dead as much as she.

"Do..." she began, unsure of how to word her question. "You think... Knock Out might be thinking about Breakdown's death as much as y-"

“Oh, I know he is," Bulkhead cut Arcee off instantly. Shocked by this, she looked up at Bulkhead curiously, only to be met by a most knowing look. "I know," he said, answering the real question Arcee was attempting to ask. "Doesn’t mean I think Knock Out did him any favours though.”

"Well, what does that mean?" Arcee was confused by that last sentence. "Are you saying you blame Knock Out?"

"Breakdown was his own mech," Bulkhead responded firmly. "He made every decision on his own and he made a lot of bad decisions. And I'll tell you, Knock Out was one of 'em."

Clearly, there would be no reminiscing of a shared friend between him and Knock Out, that's what Bulkhead was telling her loud and clear. Yet even though she was far closer with Bulkhead and trusted him far more than Knock Out, she felt herself aligning more with Knock Out's sympathy than she did with Bulkhead's. True, while she did wonder what actually happened between Bulkhead and Breakdown, her processor instead kept wandering more to remind herself Knock Out had lost terribly at Luna 2 as she had.

Shame came to her as she looked down at the cracked datapad. Knock Out had every right to want Airachnid dead and... she vented out a sigh. He was right in their argument. They never had agreed who could or who couldn't slay Airachnid. She had just been so utterly lost that she had grappled for something to blame, something to control...

And part of that control was forcing Knock Out to confront Smokescreen. Yes, it was only a brief means to exact some control when she otherwise felt utterly powerless. Arcee was now fully aware that it would not help her in the slightest. Besides, she thought bitterly, wouldn't it be worse for her? If Knock Out and Smokescreen returned, all chummy with each other? Wouldn’t it be another slap to her faceplate as if to say 'look what I have and you don't'?

Despondent, she returned to her work, thanking Bulkhead for the chat. Now, he too, would have something to dwell on while they worked. Watching him head over to the vehicons, she then turned to the horizon, past the estate gates and in the direction that Knock Out and Smokescreen had driven towards. 

It wasn't up to her either way. Her emotions should not be affected by Knock Out's own path to healing, she thought with determination. Arcee would have to find hers another way, even if it meant she had to go it alone. It may not be her first choice, but it was one she was familiar with.

 

"Think you can keep up?" Smokescreen shouted over the sound of their engines thundering. His own engine roared in protest as Smokescreen shifted and pounded forwards, blazing past Knock Out.

Normally, Knock Out would never allow another race car to pass him. But in this moment, Knock Out’s spark felt like it was about to burst from nauseating anticipation. Why had he ever agreed to this!? It felt like anxiety, not energon, that now coursed through his system. He was only doing this for Breakdown. But was it the right thing?

‘Right thing’. He recalled the saying with disdain for it reminded him of what he had told to Ratchet, who had been insistent on doing ‘the right thing’. Knock Out had countered that thought and told him to do what was right for him. The thing was, everything inside Knock Out told him this was not the right thing him.

Why was everybot so insistent he reveal himself to the Autobot? It wasn’t even _normal_. Now with Smokescreen an adult, Knock Out had every right to keep the information to himself, as almost all sires did on Cybertron. Knock Out was perfectly content, as he told Optimus Prime, to keep himself hidden. It was these pesky Autobots adapting human culture that was pushing them all into making some sort of ‘connection’, as Arcee had said, with what was technically his heir. They claimed revealing himself would improve his life, but as of right now, the only thing that would improve Knock Out’s life was finding Breakdown. 

The blue dot ahead of him veered left and right, avoiding metal scrap on the ground that cluttered the landscape more and more as they neared the inner city. Looking up at the large towers that soon engulfed the two on either side, Knock Out began to focus on reimagining the past, and figuring out where they might be going. Throwing back his shifter, he slammed on his accelerator pedal and raced forwards. 

But abruptly, Smokescreen suddenly hit reverse until Knock Out caught up to him then paced him.

“Soooooo..." Smokescreen said and Knock Out watched him cautiously in his side mirror. "Did you live in Iacon?” 

“What?” Knock Out was startled that by the fact that Smokescreen was actually speaking to him first. “I did, yes.”

“So did I, but I didn’t get to see much of the city,” Smokescreen said. Knock Out felt hyper attuned to how Smokescreen spoke every word. As if Knock Out could peel away the words and somehow piece together an answer for a question he didn't even know. “It always looked so massive from the windows at the academy! I always wanted to explore it but there wasn’t any time.”

“It wasn’t anything amazing,” Knock Out replied dismissively. 

“Do you think it’ll ever be that populated again?” Smokescreen asked. Yes, Knock Out concluded, there was definitely an uncomfortable edge to Smokescreen's vocaliser. “We’re supposed to get all these bots to come back, do you think there really are that many of us out there?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Knock Out replied quietly. 

Recalling his time with Arcee, Knock Out realised how he had enjoyed talking with her during their walk on Luna 2. Yes, even about things that didn’t embarrass her. Conversation came easily to him with her, and with Ratchet, even June. But he felt entirely different around Smokescreen. He constantly felt on edge and struggled for how to respond to him even with the most basic of questions. 

To put it simply, a huge part of it for Knock Out was how strange it was to connect this Smokescreen to the newspark he had known before the war. He wasn't used to speaking with Smokescreen and actually have him respond back. Yes, this Smokescreen had a personality beyond that of an excited newspark that had once looked up at Knock Out with nothing but pure attachment. Instead, Knock Out had become accustomed to having this Smokescreen look at him with mistrust and dislike.

As Knock Out took a right and Smokescreen followed haphazardly, the towers began to be replaced by smaller buildings. This was the Iacon he had been more familiar with in the past. The buildings that had been run down even while lived in during the prime of the city’s life before the war. This was where the working class bots had lived their days. Bots like Breakdown and Bulkhead, simple construction workers. It was here where Knock Out had met the bot that changed his entire life around.

And within that moment, everything hit him. In his processor’s optic, he could see all the buildings just as they had been millions of years ago. But even if the scenery came alive before him, like ghosts of the past, Knock Out was still vividly aware of how different he was from the past self who had once lived here. Older and experienced, war shaping him into somebot very different from back then, although not for the worse.

“Seems like it was a rough neighbourhood.” Smokescreen spoke, zipping from side to side just behind Knock Out. “Glad there aren’t any bots around here yet! It would make the building surveillance a little more difficult, huh?”

Knock Out decided to test the waters. He called out to Smokescreen curiously, “I don’t suppose you remember what neighbourhood you lived in?” 

“Didn’t I tell you?” Smokescreen replied. “I was raised in the sparkling program. No sires for me!”

“Sounds adventurous,” Knock Out said simply, contemplating what Smokescreen had just said.

“Sure was!” Smokescreen chuckled. “Nah, it’s not as bad as bots make it sound. Wouldn’t have made me the bot I am if I hadn’t been! Although, I gotta admit, I sometimes wonder what it would have been like to be an heir.”

Instantly, Knock Out was reminded of Arcee. “Pretty boring, I’m told. Who wants to be kept around just to bring status for somebot else?”

“Yeah, but think of the lifestyle!” the younger bot crowed. “Fancy parties and all that. All those alien imports like plants and cloth and spices? Being all done up with fancy detailed paint jobs to meet important bots? C’mon, sounds pretty fun, huh?”

“Being pampered has its appeal," Knock Out had to agree.

“So, Knock Out," and here he sounded a little more friendly, "where did you live before the war? Were you a racer? Did you know Blurr!? I've never been to the races, but we had posters of him up in our dorms at the academy! I heard the racecars had pretty pampered lives. You know, unlike the gladiators.”

“No, I’m a doctor by trade, remember?” Knock Out amended, “Although I used to go watch the races. They could get pretty fierce not unlike the gladiators. It wasn’t open information at the time, but they lived pretty similar restricting lives.” So Smokescreen didn't even recall being to the races, where Knock Out would let him, as a newspark, ride on his back between his wings and peer over his helm at spectacle below.

“Ah, science bot,” Smokescreen said, enthusiasm dribbling out of his tone. “That’s cool. Must’ve still had a cushy life, yeah?”

Knock Out cringed inwardly. “It sufficed,” he lied, then added with a little more honesty, “I didn’t really fully immerse myself in it until the war started though. Ah…” he slowed down and rolled up to a tall tower. “This is the right one.”

Both mechs transformed and Knock Out led the way inside the class-specific residential tower. Thankfully, when Team Prime had restored Cybertron using the omega lock, it included restoring power to most cities. Knock Out only had to flick on a switch and the elevation platform rose from the ground.

Looking around, Knock Out remembered how busy the main floor had always been back in the day. Construction bots of all kinds came and went, working different shifts at different sites. Some had been absolutely massive to the point where he could have been stepped on. But despite all of their bulking sizes, all would look down at Knock Out’s seeker wings suspiciously, making sly comments about himself or Breakdown to their friends. 

“So I haven’t really gone on one of these building recons,” Smokescreen spoke. Knock Out noted how much further away he stood from him than Arcee ever had. “What kind of information do you think Ultra Magnus wants? I mean, what are we searching for exactly?”

Knock Out waved his servo without lifting it. He was distracted by the flooding memories. “Don’t concern yourself with that, it’s my trial anyway,” he lied.

Smokescreen’s chassis puffed. “Then you better be on your best behaviour if you want an outstanding report!”

As the elevation platform reached the selected floor, Knock Out finally cast Smokescreen a glance. “You have doubts?”

He walked off the platform and headed straight, as he had done many times in his pre-war life, to that familiar door. 

Just like yesterday, he recalled how he had sat on that entryway, waiting for Breakdown to return from his shift. Knock Out had sat there for joors looking worse for wear after having fought with his two trinemates. Both of them had told him not to return after being completely fed-up with Knock Out’s inability to commit to the trine lifestyle. Breakdown had discovered him with surprise that day, and for the first time, he had helping Knock Out buff out the scratches from his fight. It had been that day that he had moved into this tower. Now, the door before him in the present day, tall and wide to fit its larger residents, opened for them. Even after all that had happened the last time he was here, it welcomed him back into the suite.

Caught in the moment, he felt rooted to the spot. It was just how he remembered. Even through all the dust and grit, Knock Out knew this suite. Everything was still in its place. The main bench in front of the entertainment screen was still there, where Knock Out had sat many times, watching the news, the impressive racecars and, yes, even the gladiator battles. Then to the right was the immensely sized table with the seating benches where Knock Out had spent many late nights studying for medical exams- or counting out crystals to sell at school. Yes, he could even recall when he had tripped and smacked his helm on the corner of the table. Such unimportant memories like that all began to surface.

Only when Smokescreen walked past him and stopped just in front of the picture window overlooking the district below did Knock Out dare take another step. 

How bizarre it was to see Smokescreen, now an adult and painted blue of all colours, to now stand in front of the picture window. Just as if it occurred yesterday, Knock Out recalled running back and forth in front of this very window, searching for Smokescreen whose t-cog had just kicked in and was scanning and transforming into all of the suite’s appliances in a maddening and undesired game of hide and seek. Watching Smokescreen gaze out at the scenery below was like looking into a taunting mirror, allowing Knock Out a glimpse of how things could have occurred if that night had not gone so drastically wrong. 

“Neat view,” Smokescreen said, shrugging. But his shrug seemed reserved, like he stopped committing to the motion halfway. “Reminds me of the view… at the Iacon Hall of Records…” although he didn’t sound sure.

Giving him nothing but a curious look, Knock Out walked past the window, past the weights and exercise equipment left in the corner of the room. He remembered Breakdown slamming them down in anger when he had spoken emotionally about a tiff he had with Bulkhead. All these memories played themselves out around him, but it was the single room in the suite that Knock Out felt himself gravitating towards.

Knock Out stood, unable to move as he stared by the doorway into the darkened room. His optics shifted and adjusted to the lack of light and slowly hallowed visions of the past surfaced before him. He felt his frame shudder from the sudden rush of memories that he fought so hard to keep at bay. This was the berthroom where he had chosen to stay so many power downs, and in doing so, turning his back on the seeker lifestyle.

“What’s in there?”

Knock Out was startled by Smokescreen’s voice, now feeling the younger bot’s shadow creep up on him from behind.

“Nothing,” was his cool reply. He left it at that as he felt the room tug at the corner of his optic, pulling him once more into the past. He even took a step forwards as he heard the sounds of Smokescreen amble away to further explore the suite.

This was the first place he had ever spent the night with Breakdown, so long ago. If only he had known back then what his future would have held for that seeker and his life tied to the bot he had just met. His future sparkmate. There was no way he could have known that this bot he had met and found himself irrevocably attracted to would ignite a desire in him that he had never experienced, never thought would happen to him. Certainly not the way he had lived his life back then. This bot that had changed him for the better and made him feel like he had found the direction for his spark to burn even brighter, becoming the Knock Out he was now, the Knock Out he was sparked to be.

The stands were where they had always been but the contents had long been emptied, by Breakdown or somebot else, he had no way of knowing. Even the bedding he had once stolen from one of the elitebot’s manors, a gift for Breakdown, had been taken. That’s what it was, Knock Out thought as he looked about the room. It looked stripped. Yes, it was all there as it had been, the memories still lingered, but the room looked stripped and perhaps rightfully so. If only the memories had been taken with it. 

It reminded him of being on the _Nemesis_. After Breakdown’s death, when Knock Out had locked himself in his sparkmate’s room and he had drunk and pleasured himself into required stupor. Like that place, this room was a source of fond memories, and just like on the _Nemesis_ , that room would now only contain memories. History had to stop repeating itself. 

“Where are we?”

Knock Out shifted himself, looking towards the doorway where Smokescreen’s silhouette stood framed. With the lack of usual enthusiasm and pep in his vocaliser, he almost appeared ominous.

Quickly, Knock Out strode out of the room, pushing past Smokescreen roughly. Suddenly, the familiar feelings of claustrophobia was starting to weave it’s way across himself, forcefully tying him down into the suite and everything Knock Out had long since buried millions of years ago. He had spent so many years of his life successfully living as if none of this had ever happened. But now, now it rushed him, demanding itself into the present and to become reality once more. He wasn’t ready.

“Hey,” Smokescreen called, aggressively interrupting Knock Out’s secret panic attack. “I wanna know, where are we?”

Knock Out gritted his dentae, looking down at the ground. No. He wasn’t ready. But he had to, to find Breakdown. He shut his optics tightly and his spark twisted painfully within him at the thought of seeing Breakdown in front of him. It was all for Breakdown. He was waiting for him. 

So Knock Out masked his unease with a smirk. Looking up, he held Smokescreen’s optics with his own and nearly rolled his own when he saw the flighty bot twitch from the intensity of his gaze.

“Look, I—” Smokescreen began, but Knock Out interrupted him, taking control of the situation.

“Why? Does any of it look familiar to you?” Knock Out said, unable to keep the loftiness out of his voice. He strode over to the computer by the workstation.

“N-no. No why would it?” Hostility showed itself in Smokescreen by the twitchiness of the doors on his back and his side to side fidgeting. “I’ve only ever lived in the housing for sireless newsparks and in the barracks when I joined the elite guard, I’ve never lived in a suite in my life, why would you—”

“I’m curious,” Knock Out continued, turning on the computer. It crackled, but it still sprang to life from his trembling touch. Was he trembling? Knock Out had doctor’s servos, he never shook. “What do you know of Cybertron’s current events when you were in the elite guard?”

“Well, I mean, the war was going on,” he stammered. He looked left, right, anywhere than at Knock Out. Was it because he was struggling to remember or because he was intimidated by him? “Megatron had revolted, broke off from Optimus Prime, and-”

Knock Out shifted through articles on the computer. “So you never heard of the Waves?”

“What,” Smokescreen sounded dubious, “like Shockwave or Soundwave?”

“Kind of,” Knock Out muttered. “Were there any Distribution Centres still running when you were at the academy?”

Smokescreen shook his helm. “No, I think they were all seized by the Decepticons or something-”

“Bombed,” Knock Out corrected. On the computer, he scanned the articles on the subject matter. “Millions of sparklings died in those bombings- and the workers too.” He recalled what Airachnid had told him. “It wasn’t Shockwave- or even Soundwave- as we all believed. Not the first centre to blow, anyway. Maybe he bombed the rest when he joined the Decepticons out of revenge after the government seized them, I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Smokescreen said slowly. “What’s that gotta do with where we are now? I thought we were doing building recon for Magnus so they could start designating housing for when the other Autobots come. Clearing buildings out, getting information…”

Knock Out paused, feeling his glossa caught in his mouthplate. “The bot who lived here, his name i— was… Breakdown.”

The response was instantaneous. “Never heard of the guy.”

Knock Out’s optics darted to Smokescreen from the computer screen.

“Well, this is a construction bot habitation tower. All the bots that resided here worked for the same company. In fact,” Knock Out began to find his pacing again, “with your comrade _Bulkhead_ , actually.” A forced smile crossed Knock Out’s faceplate. “The construction company was contracted to complete the removal of the wreckage of the first Sparkling Distribution Centre that exploded.”

“When does this story get relevant?” Smokescreen made it sound almost like a threat.

Knock Out stared at the press article on the screen. It was an image of the destroyed Distribution Centre the day it had exploded. There was still smoke emanating from the wreckage.

“Breakdown…” he said, “he was on the job cleaning the rubble and he found something. I guess he said,” just above the edge of the computer, Knock Out saw Smokescreen narrow his optics, “it was dying.”

“What was dying?” Yet it wasn’t a question.

“A sparkling," Knock Out responded anyway.

A forced laugh found its way into Smokescreen’s sentence. “How could it have survived the explosion?”

“How would I know?” Knock Out retorted. “It was in some sort of protective casing, but it had shattered and the glass had pierced it. What I’m saying is, it would have died. It should have if-”

“If what?” Smokescreen interjected.

“If Breakdown hadn’t provided his coding to save it,” Knock Out answered.

“So this Breakdown became its sire?” Smokescreen stated. “Then what? So what’s that gotta do with this place?”

“Because,” Knock Out said, “he brought it here.” He gestured at the suite. “Where we lived.”

Smokescreen took a step back and looked around the room, as if noticing it for the first time. “‘We’? ‘We’ who?”

“Breakdown and myself,” he stated.

“You lived here?” and Smokescreen inclined his head in an accusatory fashion. “ _You?_ ”

Knock Out couldn’t respond. If he didn’t blurt it out now, he never would be able to. “As you know, one code isn’t typically enough for a sparkling to transform into a newspark and this one was very weak. It was still dying. So… for Breakdown’s sake, to prevent the sparkling from dying, I—”

“You?”

Knock Out inclined his helm, staring into the blue optics he had seen so many times in the past. He recalled how they used to look up at him with an intense curiosity and an even stronger attachment reflected within them. But now, Knock Out was thrown off guard and jarred by how there was such an apparent wall behind Smokescreen's optics. Knock Out wondered if that wall had been built on purpose or not.

"I," he continued slowly, "merged wi-"

"You?" Smokescreen repeated. And Knock Out realised Smokescreen's optics were darting all over him as if searching for something, perhaps an answer. " _You?_ You what... became it's..."

"Sire," Knock Out supplied. He wondered if Smokescreen was catching on and yet he knew that was a stupid thing to even wonder for how defensive the young mech was acting. "I became it's-" 

"You're lying."

Knock Out froze. “I beg your pardon!?”

“No,” Smokescreen stood tall, chassis expanding and stood broadly. “You’re _lying_.”

“What reason do I have to gain from lying?” Knock Out returned incredulously.

“Is that what you’re getting at?” Smokescreen pressed. He was completely tensed, his optics darting around the room. “You can’t be serious! We’re not here to evaluate this building- or you. You… you brought me here just to tell me this?! Why me? Why me?” He glared at Knock Out fiercely and yet Knock Out couldn't take Smokescreen seriously.

“Why,” Knock Out returned coolly, leaning on the table in false confidence, “are you getting so defensive?”

They stood in silence, the tension in the air seemed to puff Smokescreen up even more in his stubborn resistance.

“So, what - what are you trying to say?” Smokescreen’s vocaliser rose in volume. “That… that that sparkling was somehow…”

He knew he had to say it. “You.”

There was another wave of silence that felt like it lasted for joors, but it was probably less than a klick.

Finally, Smokescreen said, “You’re lying.”

Knock Out let out a stark laugh. “Where do you think you get your flashy looks from?”

But again, Smokescreen shook his helm. “You’re lying,” he repeated. Yet Knock Out could distinctly notice how Smokescreen's optics trailed all over his frame, perhaps looking for any signs of familiarity from the past or perhaps even for similar design traits.

“You’re overreacting,” Knock Out retorted. He struggled to compose himself, leaning back and crossing his arms. Suddenly, his trepidation with the conversation was turning into frustration. “Tell me, why is it so unbelievable? What’s so terrible about the truth?”

It was so bizarre to have seen those blue optics so many times in the past to now stare at him not only with a sentience that had not been there as a newspark, but with what clearly looked like hatred.

Smokescreen took a step away. “You’re a _Decepticon_.”

“Not anymore,” Knock Out said, repressing a snarl. Somehow, these Autobots did not seem to understand this.

But Smokescreen was slowly edging towards the door. “Bulkhead’s right about you,” he said and Knock Out startled at the mention of Breakdown’s rival. “You _are_ crazy.”

Disgusted at the insult, Knock Out fired back, “There’s a lot you don’t know about Bulkhead!”

“All of which are lies, no doubt!” were Smokescreen’s final words before dashing out the front door.

Growling in vexation, Knock Out chased after him.

He wasn’t sure what he expected from the confrontation. But he hadn’t been expecting out-right denial. Come to think of it, he knew very little about this adult Smokescreen as it was. Almost nothing. But wasn’t that a part of why sires and heirs mostly split off? It wasn’t the same with humans, who grew up together over time, they could grow to like each other. Compared to a bot, who transformed instantly from newspark to an adult, there was no telling what an heir would be like, right? Would Smokescreen had stayed, would he like who Knock Out was, if things hadn’t gone so wrong that one night? Knock Out grimaced to himself. There was a reason they did things the way they did on Cybertron. 

As he watched Smokescreen, already transformed into his alt mode, riding the elevation platform down to the ground level, Knock Out cursed himself. He cursed, Arcee, June- and heck, why not Optimus Prime too. Everyone who persuaded him to end up standing where he was, now completely stuck in his situation with no way out. Quickly, he transformed, using the other elevation platform to chase after him.

Even as Knock Out drove after Smokescreen, the wind roaring as he whizzed through the empty city and out into the clear outskirts, he recalled how he and Breakdown had once been devastated to learn of Smokescreen’s apparent ‘death’ at the Iacon Hall of Records during the final days of the war. Once upon a time, they had wondered if they would have ever found him again, and what they would say to him. Asking each other such questions as- ‘would we recognise him?’ and ‘would he want to remember us?’. Well now, millions of years later with no Breakdown, Knock Out had all the answers.

Spotting the blue dot in the distance, Knock Out pounded his pedal and sped up. Once within range, Knock Out shouted over the sounds of the wind, “Pull over, we’re not done talking!”

“ _No,_ ” Smokescreen shouted back. “Do you even have the right to talk to me, ‘con?”

Enraged by the classicist remark, Knock Out slid to the side, lightly pushing into Smokescreen who had to veer to avoid being hit.

“What the scrap!” he cried out.

“Pull over!” Knock Out yelled to be heard.

“You’re crazy!” Smokescreen spat.

Alright, Knock Out was done playing games with this juvenile bot. He again loosened hold of his steering and slid, this time more forcefully, into Smokescreen, causing him to lose control and spin out. To avoid crashing into the landscape, Smokescreen transformed, skidding to a halt.

Knock Out, too, transformed while still at full speed. To slow down, he dug his claws into the ground, his sharp digits creating sparks as they scraped the metal ground. 

“What’s wrong with you?!” Smokescreen shouted. There was a fair distance between them that Knock Out was quickly closing in on as he walked towards the other bot.

“I’m wondering the same about you,” Knock Out countered, vocaliser dangerously threatening. “I expected maybe some questions or clarification, not a newspark tantrum!”

Everything about Smokescreen radiated with hostility. “Tantrum? Who the scrap are you to even call me a newspark- I don’t even know you. You’re some lunatic Decepticon doctor that tried to dissect me-”

“I saved your life!” Knock Out’s optics flew open in outrage, just as furious as the day this newspark trapped him in that wall. “I _let_ you take the phase shifter.”

Smokescreen let out a crude laugh, and said sarcastically, “Yeah, okay, sure!” But had nothing else to offer.

Finally, Knock Out stopped advancing, allowing Smokescreen to have his space. He raised his servos to his chassis. He exhibited control over his vocaliser. “Why would I lie about this?”

“Because you’re lying,” Smokescreen insisted.

Knock Out choked on his vocaliser. “That makes no sense!” Then he jabbed a digit at himself and snarled, “You’d be _dead_ if it weren’t for _me!_ I chose to merge my spark with yours, you would have died otherwise! _I_ risked everything. You owe me your very life! So show me a little more respect-”

“Respect my aft!” Smokescreen retorted brazenly. “I’d never give any ‘con any kind of respect, let alone a lying, crazy and creepy one like you!”

A growl rippled onto Knock Out’s faceplate and he clenched his servos into tight fists. “Why, you ungrateful little-”

"No," Smokescreen interrupted, "You! You twisted Decepticon! I knew you couldn't have changed sides, I told Arcee, I told Bulkhead! Letting you out of the prisons was a big mistake!" Smokescreen's venting was becoming louder. "So what is this, huh? Is this some part of some messed up plan to turn us all against each other?"

" _No!_ " Knock Out snarled. "You are _my_ newspark!"

“You know how I know you’re wrong?” Smokescreen said, the doors on his back twittering every few klicks. “Because I know my sires. They were Autobot _heroes_. So you’re _wrong_.”

Knock Out almost laughed. “And you call _me_ the liar?” he smirked. “Who in Primus told you that? Was it Bulkhead?”

But Smokescreen balled his servos into defiant fists. “I know,” he said with an edge, “because I _remember_ them.”

Knock Out shuttered his optics in surprise. He felt himself waver. “Remember?” he asked, taken aback. “What do you remember?”

“Their optics,” said Smokescreen.

Knock Out tapped his chinguard in thought. “Do you now?”

“His was yellow-”

Knock Out chucked. “Breakdown’s were yellow-”

But Smokescreen cut him off with a most jarring statement: “And _hers_ were _blue._ ”

“What?” Knock Out jolted. This didn’t make any sense. Blue optics? His had been red all his life. And for that matter… _‘her’??_

“I still remember her optics,” Smokescreen spoke. Finally he seemed to calm down, as if comforted by, what surely _had_ to be, this false memory that he desperately clung to. “They were blue. Soothing… caring. I still remember elements of her faceplate. Her sweet and smiling femme mouthplate and the shape of her helm…” he seemed so lost in the memory that there wasn’t any way Knock Out believed he was lying. But it couldn’t be the truth. It made no sense whatsoever. 

“Yeah,” Smokescreen continued, “I still remember her looking down at me. She made me smile when I was feeling scared and I’d lose myself in those blue optics. They told me everything would be okay. She held me close and I felt her loving warmth of her spark within her chassis.”

“Impossible!” Knock Out flustered, who was not only _not_ a femme, did _not_ have blue optics and who felt he had done none of those things to Smokescreen as a newspark. “ _I’m_ the one who looked into your spark as a sparkling! There were never any femmes! It was _me_ who searched for your name within your very spark!”

Smokescreen huffed a crude laugh. “Well then that must’ve been some other smokescreen! Because it definitely wasn’t me. I know my sires. They had to join the war, so they couldn’t commit to providing me with input as sires any more. They’re still out there- maybe they’re on their way back to Cybertron right now! So back off, you crazy ‘con.”

Knock Out narrowed those flaring red optics of his. His mouthplate curling at the edges in disgust. “I’m not a Decepticon.”

“Take a look in the mirror.” Smokescreen shrugged in a mocking gesture, taking a step back. “You can’t change those red optics of yours. They will always tell everyone you meet what you are. Once a ‘con, _always_ a ‘con.”

And he transformed and raced off back to the Waves estate, leaving Knock Out with the one to have more questions than answers. 

Immediately, Knock Out was hit with a rush of anger. He curled his clawed servos, controlled by the urge to become violent as all these emotions obnoxiously swarmed him no matter how much he argued he didn’t feel them. But because there was nothing to slice in half with his double saws, he instead channeled his anger by transforming into his alt mode and roaring his engine as loud as possible. Together with the sound of his engine, he also began to spin his tires, the smell of burning rubber quickly filled the air. Rapidly, a smoke cloud built up behind him the longer he held his position, and soon it wasn’t just the sound of his engine, but the smoke cloud too that swallowed him, drowning out his rage. 

No, he couldn’t even articulate himself, it was only emotion that filled Knock Out. He used this rage to drown out his embarrassment and whatever other emotion he might accidentally succumb to. 

Unable to sustain the built up of emotion any longer, he let go and Knock Out flew forwards after Smokescreen. Wind wiping by on either side, Knock Out sped forwards, chasing that blue dot ahead of him. 

Despite being in his alt mode, he smirked cruelly to himself. So it seemed Knock Out would take advantage of the chance to race after all. 

 

Arcee stood up, stretching out her back. It had been a long time since she had done manual labor, she had forgotten what a sense of achievement it gave to be so productive. Arcee had just finished repairing the fifth floor windows with a few of the vehicons. The rest were on a higher plateau with Bulkhead repairing the gaping hole in the entry hall's roof. While Arcee did prefer work that kept her on the go, distracting her processor with new sights, staying in one place and witnessing the results of her labor was somewhat rewarding.

She glanced to the vehicons who were also finishing up on their last picture window. Arcee had first found the need to constantly watch them, not trusting to have her back to them. But over time as she worked, she'd forget, and realise she had her back to them for joors. Once aware of them, she realised they were all engrossed in their work. While they didn't really talk much, they would issue requests and questions to one another related to what they were doing. 

It was then that she heard laughter from up above and Arcee gazed skywards shielded her optics from the waning daylight. Bulkhead on the upper levels was laughing with a few of the vehicons. He had spent the most time with them, working almost right away on repairing the buildings since Optimus had left Team Prime. 

Arcee then looked to the horizon, noticing a cloud of dust heading their way, it took her a moment, but she realised it was caused by the return of the two race cars. As Arcee descended to the ground to meet them, she struggled to mentally prepare herself for how she would feel seeing Knock Out return after finding a cure to his loss. 

One down, Arcee told herself, embittered, just herself left. 

As the cloud neared, Arcee could see Smokescreen was in the lead. Bulkhead, too, had noticed their return as he walked up next to Arcee, also looking curious yet perhaps slightly apprehensive.

Racing up, Smokescreen transformed from his alt mode. Arcee turned to say something to him but was instantly caught off guard by his disturbed expression.

Bulkhead too noticed this. “Kid?” he asked tentatively. Distinctly, Arcee noticed Bulkhead’s optics dart to the approaching Knock Out in the distance then back to Smokescreen. “Something wrong? You okay?”

It was almost like Smokescreen hadn’t realised either bot was standing next to him. He jumped at the sound of Bulkhead’s vocaliser and looked up at his friend with a bewildered almost terrified look. It only confused Bulkhead further.

“Kid,” he started to say, “Did-”

But Bulkhead cut himself off when Smokescreen opened his mouthplate to speak, but then promptly shut it. He looked from Bulkhead, to Arcee, back to Bulkhead, then to Knock Out quickly approaching in his alt mode. 

Shaking his helm, Smokescreen dashed off towards the manor entrance. She could hear him say, "Bumbleb- Ultra Magnus? Magnus, I need a groundbridge back to the _Nemesis_ now-"

Arcee, too, was about to speak to Bulkhead, but Knock Out arrived and he transformed, shaking off the dirt and grit from his travels. 

“Why, good day to you both, my fellow _Autobots_ ,” he said smoothly, almost sing-song. He dipped his helm to Arcee, then faced Bulkhead. She could tell that smirk of his was intimidating her friend into silence. The two clearly did not like one another, but more to the point, she surmised, there was absolutely an unspoken history there. 

Bulkhead narrowed his brow ridges but said nothing. He shifted himself, clearly waiting for Knock Out to break the controlled silence. So when he didn’t, Bulkhead finally spoke up.

“Don’t-”

“Don’t what?” Knock Out asked instantly, clearly he had been gauging Bulkhead to say something first so he could cut him off. His winning grin said it all, that and a single raised brow ridge. Arcee tensed as the two bots faced each other, noting how Bulkhead's gaze momentarily flickered away. 

“Now, Arcee,” he turned to face her and she felt herself chilled. There was something in those optics, they were alight and eager, but not without a terrifying anger. “I believe I won our little wager and I’m here to cash in my chips. Now if you would please be so kind as to lead the way?" 

Perhaps two left after all, Arcee thought, as she contacted Ultra Magnus for a bridge back to the _Nemesis_ with Knock Out hovering close. Clearly, Knock Out's chat with Smokescreen had not gone well. Which was an utter shame as she knew this had been Knock Out's only solution now that they would never be able to kill Airachnid. Sure, Arcee would help Knock Out 'find' Breakdown, but already she knew how it would end. And once that was sorted, it would be the both of them yet again searching for that cure to their losses.

Except there was no cure. Arcee understood this now, it was nothing but an endless hunt and, sooner or later, Knock Out would have to accept this as she had.

 

_**(The Flashback. . . Before the War)** _

Knock Out clamped his servo tighter over his mouthplate, fighting to regulate his heavy venting. Yet the more he endeavored to seize control, the louder it seemed that his spark would thud against its chamber. Gritting his denta in fear, he shut his optics tight, straining to listen to the discussion occurring on the other side of the door. But interrupting his tension, was a series of beeps and babbles from the newspark he held.

Looking down, he met the concerned optics of the newspark. Optics wide, they darted all over Knock Out’s faceplate, clearly trying to interpret his sire’s expression. No doubt, it was probably shifting through what data it learned to better understand the clearly distressing situation. As a newspark, Smokescreen would be able to pick up the aura of the spark it had received coding from, thus able to receive the radiating terror Knock Out was unable to keep inside. This fear Smokescreen picked up on caused his tiny, taunt mouthplate to grimace and tremble. Anxiously, Knock Out feared Smokescreen was going to start wailing, and thus reveal their positions.

“Shhh.” Knock Out applied a single clawed digit to his own mouthplate. But Smokescreen just looked all the more confused and scared, not understanding this gesture or sound. Horrified, Knock Out watched Smokescreen’s mouthplate widen, and lubricant begin to gather in the corners of his optics. Knock Out frantically shook his helm at Smokescreen, trying and failing to prevent him from outright crying.

In desperation, Knock Out pulled Smokescreen tighter against himself, hoping against hope that being close against his spark would somehow soothe the newspark despite the fear aura it was emanating. He felt the newspark’s little servos cling to his plating, give a high-pitched yet quiet whine and press its face as close as it could to where Knock Out’s spark lay underneath.

Still venting so loud he thought the entire construction tower could locate him, he pressed his audial receptors to the door, hoping to hear the sounds of the bots leaving…

“I’ve got more images of the two of you,” came the deep, threatening vocaliser. 

“Told you already,” Breakdown responded, “look somewhere else and get outta my suite.”

“I don’t think you realise,” the bot lowered his tone. Knock Out heard what must have been him taking a single, intimidating step forwards. “Just how much trouble you’re going to be in if you don’t tell me where this newspark is. It’s _government_ property,” he hissed.

 _Frag!_ Knock Out clutched his helm and resisted the urge to mutter to himself. He pressed his seeker wings against the door. Fearfully, he gasped, pressed his helm back against the door and shut his optics tightly. Desperately, he wished he was somewhere else. 

They were in it this time, no, he was _really_ in it now. Knock Out swore to himself- he knew they never should have kept this newspark! Knock Out had been in trouble plenty of times before, but those were nothing compared to now. No, this was more than just a ‘strike on his record’ for certain. If only he had just fled that night when Breakdown had come home from his shift of cleaning up the remains of the Distribution Centre and with him, a small sparkling he had found. Knock Out almost had. But something… something had told him to stay, and to provide for the sparkling, and in doing so, saving its life. What a fool he’d been!

What were they going to do now? They could just leave Smokescreen somewhere, he thought desperately. But where? Could they leave him at the Iacon Hall of Records? No, that one clerk was beginning to recognise him when he picked up Smokescreen from their daily input program. He would identify Knock Out easily if the police pressed enough. 

Where else? He lightly jostled Smokescreen in his hold in an attempt to calm him, maybe into a power down, if he was lucky. 

What about that back-alley doctor Breakdown had taken Knock Out to when he had foolishly tried to replace his own t-cog and almost killed himself in the process? The doctor’s assistant had seemed to adore Smokescreen from what Breakdown had told him. Perhaps they would take Smokescreen with no questions asked? Or they could leave him with those twin lawyers they visited recently… or… or… Frag! What could they do?!

“That’s alright with you, isn’t it?” Knock Out asked in a frantic whisper, looking down at Smokescreen, still bouncing lightly yet hurriedly. Smokescreen looked up at him with worried optics. Knock Out shook his helm, “We’ll take you some place and we won’t get in trouble… You don’t want to get me in trouble, right? I saved your life, now you save mine?”

But Smokescreen mimicked his helm shaking action and babbled incoherent sounds back. Fidgeting in Knock Out’s servos, he looked like he was about to start wailing most likely too stressed from Knock Out’s strange behaviour and wanting to instead seek out Breakdown.

But suddenly, Knock Out, who had forgotten to pay attention to what was happening on the other side of the door, heard a scuffling from the other side. Terrified Knock Out was right in the action of again pressing his audial receptors to the door when-

_BAM!_

“WHAT in the PIT!?”

A blast blew open the door and Knock Out and Smokescreen both were hurled into the air and across the room. There was no time to even instinctively shield Smokescreen because-

_WHAM!_

Knock Out smacked into the wall and let out a cry of pain. Smokescreen, too, impacted into the wall. Thudding to the ground upside down, Knock Out watched in dismay as Smokescreen hit the ground a pede’s length away from him.

“AHA!” that same voice crowed triumphantly. “There’s the seeker…”

Scrambling, Knock Out hid behind the other side of the berth, hidden from the doorway, and began to desperately claw at Smokescreen, pushing him to hide under the berthstand.

“ _Transform!!_ ” he hissed in a whisper to Smokescreen, wishing him to transform and hide. But the newspark started to whine from being forced to ball up, clearly not understanding the action or why he was being grabbed at so roughly by his sire. “ _Transform, frag you!_ ” Knock Out gasped and he initiated his t-cog so his wings and some parts around his chassis moved as if he was going to transform. “Do it!!” He heard the sounds of approaching pedes.

“Leave him alone!” he heard Breakdown say, “Look, he’s just staying here for a bit so-”

“Arrest him, Chase!”

“But-” a second voice protested. 

“I said do just it!”

Turning his attention back to Smokescreen, Knock Out again shifted his parts, hoping that Smokescreen would understand. Despite still scared and confused, Smokescreen mimicked him and transformed into his little ball alt mode and rolled under the berthstand to hide. 

Relieved, Knock Out was barely able to give Smokescreen a rare yet nearly genuine smile of assurance as two little blue optics anxiously peeked out of the ball mode because Knock Out felt one of his wings being grabbed roughly. He let out a yelp as he was yanked out from behind the berth.

“There you are..!” 

Knock Out gasped, now seized by a terrifyingly massive bot. His clawed servos dug into Knock Out’s wing causing him to twist painfully in his hold. Squinting he looked up, following the bots wild black and purple pattern leading up to his terrifyingly intense and wild purple optics. Knock Out could feel a wave of venting air curl around his entire helm. The mech uttered a low, rumbling chuckle. He turned his large helm back to the doorway where Breakdown stood with another smaller bot who looked like he had been trying, and very unsuccessfully, to restrain Breakdown.

“So you haven’t seen the little, red seeker in orns, huh?” the bot chided, chuckling again. “I think lying to an officer is a worthy offense, wouldn’t you say, Chase? But you,” he smirked, his faceplate mere widths away from Knock Out’s. “Hiding from an officer… a seeker knows better than that, don’t they?”

“ _Barricade!_ ”

A third voice called out. It took Knock Out a moment, but he recognised the voice as soon as the bot dashed into the room.

“W-what are you doing!?” It was Streetwise, the officer who had so often been Knock Out’s cell watcher when he was imprisoned downtown. 

Still dangling Knock Out off the ground, Barricade replied, “Caught myself a little seeker here. The one this bot _claimed_ didn’t live here. I wonder what else they’re hiding, Streetwise.”

“Well,” Streetwise sounded apprehensive, “put him down! Prowl doesn’t want a repeat incident of the Waves estate-”

“Prowl _knows_ what he’s getting when he assigns me to a task!” Barricade snapped back, causing the far smaller Streetwise to back away. “NOW, seeker…” he turned his helm back to Knock Out and shook him in his hold. “Where are you hiding that newspark?!”

“I don’t-” Knock Out began to say but Barricade slammed his faceplate just a near sliver away from Knock Out’s, shaking him powerfully. 

“DON’T LIE!” he roared.

“Let him go!!” Breakdown pounded forwards and feeling much like a newspark’s playtoy, Knock Out was ripped out of Barricade’s hold by Breakdown and thrown to the floor unceremoniously. Hitting the floor, Knock Out winced, looking up at Breakdown who had slammed himself between the two mechs and looked up at the far larger Barricade. “Get outta my suite! Did my company give you a permit to do this!?” Breakdown shouted.

But Barricade only chuckled to himself, turning his back on Breakdown.

“Start searching the room,” he ordered the other two policebots. “It’s gotta be in here somewhere…” Chase and Streetwise both hesitated just a moment before splitting up and searching the berthroom.

“HEY,” Breakdown shouted, visibly losing his temper, “I’m talkin’ to you!”

“YEAH?” Barricade twirled around and took a massive stride towards Breakdown, leering down at him. “You wanna take a shot?” he threatened. “You want to strike an officer? Because I’ll have you whipped so hard, so fast you won’t know the top end of a working hammer ever again, you got that _stunticon?_ CHASE-” the smaller blue bot instantly stood up to face Barricade. He had been busy slowly picking through the contents of Breakdown’s berthstand in the search for the newspark even though it was clear he was not in there. “Didn’t I tell you to arrest this bot?”

“Yes- sorry! I am on it! I will arrest with due diligence!” Chase made to grab Breakdown but Breakdown roughly shoved him off with ease. 

“Streetwise!!” Barricade commanded, “Pick up the pace! This room stinks of seeker fluids,” and he cast Breakdown a ridiculing look.

Breakdown tensed with such a fury Knock Out had not seen. Breakdown looked like he was about to yell something at Barricade yet again when a high-pitched alarm squeaked, catching the attention of everybot in the room. Instantly, it was followed by a shrieking wail.

“Found it!” Streetwise stood up from behind the berth, clutching Smokescreen with two servos up in the air. “It was transformed, hiding.”

Knock Out felt his spark give out. Suddenly, weakness overcame him and he felt the duality of all energon being drained out of as well as the urge to vomit it all up.

He shook his helm slowly, aghast that Smokescreen had been found and began to tremble with thoughts of what might happen. This was it, Knock Out was going to lose absolutely everything. Optics wide, he looked down, at his shaking servos. He was going to be kicked out of school for certain, no longer able to study bot medicine that would have surely secured him a lifestyle above that of what any seeker could dream of. He’d be locked up for orns! Just the thought alone caused his wings to wilt and the daunting image of never being outside again flooded him. The thought alone made him lurch, yet he vomited nothing. 

Why… _why_ had he gotten himself into this situation? He could have left, he _should_ have left. Why did he stay? He shut his optics and gritted his dentae, anger beginning to trickle throughout his entire frame. 

Breakdown. That’s why he stayed. Because something about Breakdown made him stay. Was it the attention? Was it the compatibility? No, something far more than that made Knock Out risk everything and stay. It was that exuberant rush Knock Out felt whenever Breakdown looked at him, and that insatiable sensation he felt just looking at that mech. 

So Knock Out looked to him now and watched with dismay as Breakdown struggled with the other policebot in an attempt to rescue that newspark. But what about Knock Out? 

Haunted, he turned to Smokescreen. The little newspark, too, was fighting against Streetwise’s hold, looking to both Knock Out and Breakdown, reaching for either or both of them for aid. 

“Give it here-” Barricade ordered, extending a large clawed servo. “I want both these bots arrested and charged with anything you can think of!”

As Streetwise walked around the berth and started to hand over Smokescreen- not to either Breakdown or Knock Out- but to Barricade, Smokescreen cried louder. Without even realising it, the sounds of the little newsparks wails tore at Knock Out's spark.

“Leave him alone!” Breakdown shouted, again pushing Chase away from himself. “He’s mine! I applied for him! We both did!” Breakdown took a step forwards. “C’mon, he’s got our codes, he’s not gonna wanna listen to anybot else- he’s cryin’-”

Barricade's optics flew open. “ _Yours?_ ” he said, appalled. He turned to Knock Out on the ground and jabbed a digit at him. “ _His?_ This bot and that seeker gave this newspark their _codes!?_ ” Barricade then looked Smokescreen up and down. “Poor thing,” he sneered, “it should be put out of its misery for having such dismal heritage."

“YOU TAKE THAT BACK!” Breakdown flew forwards, fists ready to pound a blow.

But Barricade took one stomping step towards him and reason seemed to seize Breakdown again and he hesitated.

“You’re disgusting.” Barricade snorted a sound of utter repulsion at Breakdown. “I don’t know what you think you’re playing in this hole in the wall of yours, but you’re never going to see this newspark _again_. It belongs to the government, it always _did_ , and if they decide to _retire_ it because you ruined its potential with your and this seeker’s codes, then, well, I’ll make sure to pass on the message to you. As you _corrode_ in your jail cell," and the hulking mech spat on the ground right at Breakdown's pedes.

Breakdown stared at the wad of spit long and hard. Finally, he lifted his helm and growled, “He’s my newspark." His entire frame heaved with his repressed fire. “And I’m proud of him. And of Knock Out.”

Knock Out's wings did a brief flitter as he felt his faceplate tinge. Sure, Breakdown had defended Knock Out against mocking bots before, that wasn't new, but against this cruel policebot that was threatening to lock him up? Well, Knock Out wasn't sure to be impressed or tell Breakdown how stupid he was for standing up to this policebot.

But Barricade chuckled quietly. He held Breakdown’s gaze for an unnerving amount of time. Even so, Breakdown did not back down nor did he shutter his optics. 

Finally, Barricade said, “Chase. Arrest him. Don’t make me ask you again,” and Barricade strode over to Streetwise and the newspark. Knock Out tensed his digits as Barricade reached for Smokescreen, about to seize him in a terrifying grasp.

“You are under arrest,” Chase told Breakdown as if this was the first he was supposed to be aware of that. “Stand still and I will read you your rights-”

“Don’t touch me you fraggin’ slow processor-” Breakdown spat shoving Chase away from him while the officer made a grab for Breakdown’s servos in a failed attempt to cuff them. 

“DON’T INSULT MY HEIR,” Barricade roared and he flew at Breakdown. The action was so uncalled for that Knock Out and Streetwise both let out a frightened cry. 

“Oh scrap!” Streetwise yelped. Knock Out gasped as Barricade, in a flurry to get to Chase’s side, smacked Steetwise out of the way, causing him to drop Smokescreen. 

Appalled, Knock Out scrambled forwards, forcing the thrusters on his back to light up to give him the extra boost to reach out and catch Smokescreen before he smacked into the floor faceplate first. 

Streetwise didn’t even notice, he ran to either stop or help Barricade, Knock Out wasn’t sure. Fearfully, Knock Out clutched Smokescreen tight while his newspark wailed and wailed. As they witnessed the four bots scuffle, Knock Out pushed himself up against the wall by the other berthstand, as far away from the brawl as possible.

“GET OFF.” Barricade rammed a fist into the side of Breakdown’s helm, impacting him so hard, he fell to his pedes. 

Gripping Smokescreen, Knock Out was forced to watch in horror as Barricade beat on him. Even more struck, how Chase and Streetwise just seemed to stand there in confusion. Every fist that impacted into Breakdown, Knock Out flinched and Smokescreen screamed louder. It was almost like Knock Out could feel each blow like it was shaking the room with each hit. As much as he wanted to look away, he couldn’t. Perhaps he should have shielded Smokescreen’s optics, Breakdown’s energon was starting to splat the ground, but then Knock Out was never a very diligent sire when it came to what a newspark should and should not be exposed to. 

Then something caught Knock Out’s optic from the corner. It was the door. The doorway had been blown open. Knock Out stared at it long and hard as he heard Breakdown’s grunts of pain while Barricade punched him over and over.

He could make a break for it. Knock Out could transform and bust through the glass of the picture window and fly farther and faster than he ever had in his life. He could fly to the canyons by the sea of rust or back to the safety of his seeker towers. Heck, maybe even Skywarp and Thundercracker would take him back into their trine. 

Yes, he could leave all of this behind like it had been nothing but a nightmare. He could leave Smokescreen, leave Breakdown- and never see either of them ever again. And Knock Out would be safe. 

Yet his will for survival was stalled by the scene in front of him. Somehow, watching this particular mech being pounded on by the police riveted him to the spot and prevented him from self-preservation. It would be so easy to save himself with all of them currently distracted, but then how could he leave Breakdown- even Smokescreen who clung to him now for safety- when he was being beaten on because he had tried to defend Knock Out and Smokescreen both? 

But if Knock Out stayed, he was surely about to get his police treatment next. Would Breakdown fault him if he left now?

But then, from across the room and even with Barricade pounding him into the ground, Breakdown locked optics with Knock Out. 

With that one look, he understood what Breakdown was trying to convey. An apology. Knock Out had been right. They never should have kept the newspark. Clearly, Breakdown understood that now. 

And Knock Out broke their contact, ashamed. 

Still able to see Breakdown from the corner of his optic, Knock Out hung his helm in utter despair. He didn't flee.

“Barricade…. stop…” Streetwise was barely audible over the sounds of Barricade’s fists slamming into Breakdown’s helm. “Barricade…” his vocaliser rose in pitch as Barricade did not listen. “Stop. Prowl’s gonna be pissed.”

But only when Chase finally said, “Sire, stop-” did Barricade finally back away, venting forcefully. And only when Barricade backed away did Knock Out get a good look at his boyfriend.

Energon ran in thick heavy streaks down Breakdown’s helm. There was a deep dent on one side that leaked. One optic cracked, the other rolled back in pain. Even his dentae looked chipped yet even despite all this, he struggled to push himself off the ground. 

“That… was nothin’...” he growled. He wiped the energon dribbling out of his mouthplate then spat a wad of onto the ground. “I can…” Breakdown gasped, “Take you on…”

But Barricade laughed. “Looks like our friend took a nasty trip down the stairs, eh, Streetwise?” Streetwise said nothing. Barricade vented out a huff of air. “Nobot calls _my_ heir slow. Now cuff him.”

Breakdown did not move as Streetwise bent down and, in an almost gentle way, applied cuffs to Breakdown. 

Now, Barricade turned his attention to Knock Out. Reactively, Knock Out cringed, pressing himself deeper into the corner of the wall and the berthstand, his claws beginning to dig into Smokescreen as he held him against his chassis. Terrified, he began to fear what he was sure was his own impending beating.

Frantically thinking of what to do, Knock Out scraped at the ground, trying to press himself even more into the corner as if it could somehow protect him from the giant mech. Perhaps he should just give Smokescreen up? He thought this, but he made no move to do so, instead clinging him tighter. 

Then without warning, Smokescreen leapt forwards out of Knock Out’s grasp and landed on all fours between Knock Out and a towering Barricade. 

“NO!” Smokescreen cried out and he flared his metal parts up off his body in an attempt to puff himself out and look bigger than he really was. 

Both Knock Out and a dazed Breakdown stared at Smokescreen incredulously. Neither of them had ever heard Smokescreen speak anything other than ‘input’, like most newsparks! But shocking them both again, Smokescreen flared his frame again and screamed louder:

“No, no, NO!” and gritted his tiny little dentae as he suddenly began to crackle and glow. Static building around him from his fresh spark, Smokescreen charged a series of spark bolts from his body to shock Barricade’s incoming grasp.

Hissing in pain from the shock, Barricade retracted, shaking his servo. “What in the-” he scowled, glaring down at the newspark who crackled with energy. “C’mere!" 

He made another grab for Smokescreen but Smokescreen screamed, "NO!" again and transformed. This time, into the energon mixer that he had scanned when his t-cog had kicked in. Somehow, Smokescreen timed it just right, so when Barricade snatched at him, his servo went right into the mixer as Smokescreen whirled those sharp mixing blades.

"AUGH!!" 

Knock Out shielded himself as Barricade's energon flew everywhere in a whirling mess. Barricade stumbled back, gripping, not Smokescreen, but his sliced up servo. 

With Barricade distracted and the other policebots rushing to his aid, Knock Out scooped up Smokescreen. Back in his sire's hold, Smokescreen transformed and crawled up and around Knock Out, behind his helm to hide. Absolutely bewildered, Knock Out was astounded that Smokescreen the newspark had just made a decision to put his own little life at risk to protect his sire. Both bots he intended to leave behind had just made brave attempts to protect him and this did not go over Knock Out's helm unaware.

"How _dare_ you," Barricade seethed. Wickedly, he curled his clawed servos in ferocity and contorted his faceplate into a brutal look of repulsion. "You destroyed this sparkling, you heathen _seeker!_ Look at the way it behaves- like a wild mini-con. Do you even know that it had a _destiny!?_ "

Knock Out was hyper-venting now as Barricade stomped closer and closer towards him, his barbaric purple optics blazing maddeningly. Knock Out gulped, feeling Smokescreen begin to shudder behind his neck, feeling him try to make himself as tiny as possible and hearing him whine pitifully.

"No, you _wouldn't_ -" Barricade spat, "but I know who it was reserved for and now it's completely _ruined!_ I should destroy it _myself_ before Prowl even has to look at such a mangled and disgusting abomination!"

"Barricade!" Streetwise yelled, "You're out of line!"

Barricade didn't even turn around. Instead, before Knock Out even realised it, Barricade transformed his servo into a large-barrelled machine gun and pointed it directly into Knock Out's faceplate. He froze. The size of the gun was that of Knock Out's own helm. All he saw was black.

"Then at least let me arrange something for this low-life!" Barricade sneered, not even looking at Streetwise. "Nobot will even know his spark's been snuffed..." 

“LEAVE MY CONJUX ENDURA ALONE!” Breakdown bellowed. He rammed his shoulder into Streetwise, sending him sprawling onto the ground and pelted forwards. 

Knock Out gasped as Breakdown, servos still cuffed in front of him, slam into Barricade sending him tripping forwards. Snarling, Barricade whipped around and grabbed Breakdown by the faceplate and shoved him back.

At this point in their lives, they had never called each other such an intimate term. Now, Knock Out suddenly began to consider what Breakdown meant by literally calling him his- 

“‘Conjux endura’!?” the officer laughed cruelly. “What does a lowly _construction _bot know of being in _love?_ ” He laughed again and dug his claws into Breakdown’s helm deeper causing energon to pour from the wounds. “And with a seeker? Somebot is clearly fooling the other!” And he turned to lock optics with Knock Out, giving him such a condescending smirk, as if they somehow shared a secret between one another.__

__Snarling, Knock Out curved his clawed digits, pushing himself up off the ground slowly, back still against the wall. Rage filling him, he began to tremble._ _

__He was so sick of it._ _

__Sick of every bot assuming he was using Breakdown._ _

___Every bot_ \- Barricade, the policebots, Prowl too, his own ex-trinemates, even his school friend and of course Bulkhead constantly, every day, _all_ of them insinuating that he was just some lowly disgusting interface-craving seeker that was just _using_ Breakdown. As if Knock Out didn’t- or wasn’t even _capable_ of having actual _genuine_ feelings for Breakdown. That somehow, just because Knock Out was a seeker along with that classic lowly seeker reputation, was just _taking advantage_ of this 'gullible' construction bot. It absolutely _infuriated_ him. _ _

__“I love him.”_ _

__All the bots turned to stare at Knock Out._ _

__“I’m not using him,” his vocaliser seemed a little unstable, despite how sure he was of his feelings. “So don’t look at me like that.” He could feel the insanity burning from Barricade’s optics, searing, _judging_ into his own. Yet still, Knock Out was unmoved. “Let go of my conjux endura,” he said dangerously, “and let go of my heir. We’ll go see Prowl, go see whoever you want and get all this sorted out. But get out of our home and leave my fa-”_ _

__Barricade’s servo impacted with Knock Out’s pipes, abruptly cutting him off._ _

__Both Breakdown and Smokescreen had been dropped the ground as Knock Out was pinned to the wall by Barricade. Twitching and gasping, Knock Out scrambled by instinct but it was of no use. Barricade slowly began to crush his massive servo around his pipes._ _

__Optics blazing, Barricade spoke threateningly, “You’ve made a monumental mistake, _seeker._ ” He gripped hard, making Knock Out shed lubricant tears of pain while he twisted in the cop's hold. "You’ll never see the sky again after tonight!”_ _

__“I never really cared for it,” Knock Out spat back. He felt his own energon flow down his helm, falling into his optics and into his open mouthplate._ _

__Then from behind Barricade, Knock Out saw Breakdown leaning down over Smokescreen, whispering something urgently to him. The little Smokescreen had stopped crying and was gazing intently back into Breakdown’s optics. Whatever Breakdown was saying, Smokescreen was listening intently, soothed by the trancing voice of his sire._ _

__But this glimpse was brief as Barricade slammed Knock Out into the ground without warning and twisted his arm, causing him to yelp in pain. Barricade made a grab for Knock Out’s other servo and cuffed the two of them together._ _

__“Get his wings, Chase!” Barricade shouted. “Streetwise, I want that newspark NOW!”_ _

__Knock Out felt himself wilt inside from the sound of the lock clicking on his wings. Sorrowfully, he watched as Streetwise reached for Smokescreen, pulling him away almost carefully from Breakdown who stood up in sudden outrage. But he didn’t make it far as Barricade, still dragging Knock Out by his cuffed servos, strode forwards and slammed a massive punch to Breakdown’s faceplate, instantly knocking him unconscious, sending him to the ground._ _

__“Breakdown!” Knock Out shouted tersely._ _

__“Leave him here to think for a few joors,” Barricade huffed to an utterly stunned Streetwise. “We’ll collect him after he’s had time to think over his _life choices_. Let’s get this little mutilation back to Prowl. Let him decide what to do with it. And you,” he lifted Knock Out to optic level. “I can’t wait to see the look on your faceplate when you see your new inmates.”_ _

__Then, hoisting his arm around Knock Out’s waist, he carried him out the berthroom, followed by Chase and Streetwise. Devastated at the sight of Breakdown, beaten and bleeding, Knock Out shut his optics tight, as if when he opened them, everything could go back to the way it had been before tonight._ _

__But instead, when he opened his optics, embarrassment flooded him._ _

__For Knock Out stared at the construction bots, all the residents of this tower, milling around in the hallway, all trying to uncover what was going on in Breakdown’s suite. Now, all of them stared at the red seeker they had so often seen with their co-worker, the one they all gossiped about. Faceplate tingling, Knock Out felt it burn. Grinding his dentae, Knock Out glared with ridicule turned to hatred, watching as they all began to turn and whisper to one another._ _

__Then, one bot parted from the rest, coming to stand just outside Breakdown’s suite, watching Knock Out being hauled away. Knock Out, with one look, sent this bot a wave of hatred as he shook, rage beginning to build inside._ _

__Well, you have your wish, Bulkhead, Knock Out thought vehemently. Not even shuttering his optics as Bulkhead wandered into Breakdown's suite to check on his buddy. He would never see Knock Out again after this. He clenched his servos into tight fists. No, this Knock Out was certain._ _

__The sounds of Smokescreen sniffling alerted Knock Out's attention. The sounds of the newspark's cries echoed throughout the entire building, drawing more curious onlookers. Knock Out had never been more embarrassed in his entire life._ _

__No, he thought, energon rushing to his faceplate. He would never return to this tower again. It had all been one big mistake._ _

__Trembling from the surgence of emotions, Knock Out vowed that once he was released from prison, he would rip these cursed wings off his back by his own servos if he had to! He’d rip them off and never return! He would never see this suite, never see Smokescreen and never see…_ _

__Breakdown. Who had called him, for the first time, his conjux endura._ _

__Suddenly, Knock Out flickered in his conviction. Feeling hollow, Knock Out deflated, and in doing so, he became numb to everything around him. To the policebots' obnoxious chatter, to the onlooking construction bots and even to Smokescreen's cries._ _

__With this, and everything else that happened, Knock Out had much to dwell on as it would all sink in over the next few orns as he sat in jail._ _

__During the time that Knock Out sat in that jail cell, Breakdown, by whatever means, would not come to visit and so Knock Out, once freed, would not return to that tower. He would stay true to his promise and augment himself, swapping his t-cog the proper way and shedding his seeker wings once and for all and immerse himself in ways to further his medical career. Smokescreen would be forgotten about, too late now to rescue him if he even wanted to. But Knock Out and Breakdown _would_ come to discover one another again by what would seem to be pure chance once the war had started. _ _

__Only then would Knock Out finally accept that this bot, even back then that night where everything had gone wrong, was his conjux endura after all. Once Knock Out would realise this, they would sparkmerge, committing to each other that, in another promise, they never abandon each other again, no matter what came their way in what would be a few million years war._ _

__But Knock Out had no way of knowing any of this in that jail cell on that night. So he sat there vehemently making all his life-changing promises out of anger and embarrassment. Not even knowing that even these promises along with everything that had just happened would accumulate into one of the most important nights in pre-war history..._ _


	10. Fire in the Shadows |&| A Day at the Iacon Hall of Records

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcee must now hold up her end of the bargain with Knock Out. But where to begin their search? And once they do begin, will they find what they're looking for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you so much for everyone's continued patience!! I was so shocked and ashamed it had been so long since my last update, my sincere apologies! I have uploaded the main chapter right away since people have been asking for it. However, this means the flashback is not yet attached! It will be ready soon, so if you enjoy the flashbacks, then please check back soon. I will update my tumblr once it is up or you can just check back here later this week. Thank-you again to everyone for letting me know my story is read and enjoyed. The compliments were flattering and inspirational. A special kind thanks goes to Grayseeker (check out her fics- she updates faster than me!) for aiding me working out some of the ideas in this chapter. Thank-you everyone!
> 
> **Flashback is now up!**

She didn’t want to ask him what was inside the box. Oh, she really wanted to _know_ what was inside the box, but Arcee figured she had pried enough into Knock Out's personal life already. That, and there was something distinctly _off_ about his disposition. Although they had spent a plenty of time together recently, more than any of her actual Autobot friends, he was still something of an enigma. Even so, there was still that unmistakeable air of... tension, surrounding him. Maybe it was because he was doing that thing where he would smile despite having every reason to be _angry_.

Yes, it had been clear from both his and Smokescreen's attitudes upon their, well, _separate_ return that the reconnection of sire and heir had not been successful. From his reserved disposition and short to-the-point dialogue with her, Arcee was sure there was a part of Knock Out that blamed her. Rightfully so, she conceded. Arcee understood now it was out of her power to force him into doing something so personal. But the way she reasoned it was at least Smokescreen was alive. Unlike Breakdown. Or Cliffjumper.

"It's insurance."

"Wha-?" Arcee shuttered her optics, shaking herself out of her thoughts. "What is?" she inquired.

Knock Out smirked confidently and pointed a single digit at the box he had just placed in front of Smokescreen's suite. "What's inside the box," he explained. "It's insurance." He leaned into her personal space and she felt her frame tense. "I know you. You want to know what's inside. It's insurance. That _I'm_ right."

"You’re… ‘right’?" Arcee questioned. She started to connect the dots. “So, Smokescreen didn’t even believe you?”

“Can you imagine?” She wasn't sure what she expected, but Knock Out's laughing and jovial nature threw her off. “A proud Autobot like him being thrilled to know his old mech chose the 'con way of life? That would have been something to see if, it had gone that way!" And he cackled to himself as he strode down the hall, leaving the ‘insurance’ crate outside of Smokescreen’s suite.

Arcee brushed the rebuke off and followed after him. “What about the image card? With you and Breakdown and Smokescreen as a newspark?” she suggested pragmatically. “I'm sure you have others too, right?” There was that twinge of curiosity to see these ‘insurance’ items, for she could not for the life of her picture Knock Out as a sire.

"All in the box, my dear," he replied, masking a sigh. "All of it invariable proof that, again, _I'm_ right."

“You make it sound like ‘being right’ is all you care about,” she returned sarcastically.

It took her a moment, but she realised Knock Out had stopped walking. His entire frame standing straight and rigid. She winced inwardly knowing he was going to probably deliver her another scathing rebuke for her pestering. But she was surprised when he turned around and looked down at her with a bizarrely neutral expression.

“I take it you’ve never owned a newspark,” he said.

“Well, no,” she responded, confused. “Once I was su-”

“Then allow me to educate you,” he tipped his helm politely. But when he lifted it, his optics cut into hers and she felt chilled by the anger they held, albeit restrained. Even so, the anger was not in his tone when he spoke. Instead, he sounded almost tired.

“They are… a magnanimous investment,” Knock Out began. “They pop out of the well as delightful little sparklings and yet they still require coding to become newsparks. Arcee, my spark was once merged with Smokescreen’s. Not as sparkmates would, but in a way that allows a sparkling to peer into my spark, glimpsing who and what I am so that it may copy my data into itself to further create a unique identity. I saw everything this sparkling was as it did this. Yes,” he nodded solemnly, still holding her gaze, “As the last sire to provide coding, I was able to witness it forming itself and... in doing so, I alone was able to decipher its name. I found its name. _I_ named Smokescreen. This newspark was mine for _groons_ and during that time,” and suddenly his tone took the darker turn that she had been expecting all the while, “I have endured too much _scrap_ , changing my _entire_ life around, to allow it to spit right back into my faceplate. So yes,” he snarled, “It _is_ about ‘ _being right_ ’.”

While Arcee understood that there was a complexity of emotions Knock Out was experiencing as he explained this to her, she still not fully understand the importance of ‘being right’. It sounded so petty to her, perhaps fitting for what she knew of Knock Out- that vain and flamboyant Decepticon- but what he was now displaying, in the way he spoke and the way he looked at her, it was something more than just simple pettiness.

“Look,” Arcee said, attempting to disconnect the situation, “Knock Out, I’m so-”

“I want to find Breakdown,” he said, still holding her gaze. “That’s all I want now,” and he continued down the hallway.

“Well, do you have a plan to find him?” she asked neutrally, now in stride with him.

"Oh, Arcee,” Knock Out replied jovially, “You sound as if you doubt me!"

She stole a sideways glance and held her arms. "Well, I wouldn't say it's _you_ I doubt in all this-"

"Brazil!"

Arcee abruptly stopped walking, having almost rammed straight into Knock Out who had unexpectedly whipped around and leaned over her, enthused.

"Have you heard of such a place?" he inquired. "Tell me, you've spent a lot of time on Earth, tell me what you know of this 'Brazil'?"

"Well..." Arcee began skeptically, sidestepping his intense gaze and continued down the hallway. She heard him pad after her. "I don't know much, but what I do know is that it's a very large country. Is that where Breakdown’s spark is, uh, supposed to be?"

Knock Out nodded confidently, now in step next to her. "That's where his last known location was. It's where Airachnid challenged Megatron shortly after. That's where he must be."

Arcee furrowed her brow ridges. "Well, Brazil's far too large to go around traipsing through looking underneath rocks for a hidden sparkchamber-" and she caught that look of annoyance on his faceplate so she cut him off before he could interrupt her. "So, unless you have another plan, I think our smartest bet would be to go to Hangar E and see if the kids know of any reports of interesting finds from the country. You never know, humans might have uncovered it by now.”

But Knock Out shook his head. “No more stalling,” he said sternly. “I am growing impatient. If we pursue this plan, then we do it via video conference. By the spacebridge.”

Arcee opened her mouthplate to argue but changed her decision. If that’s what Knock Out wanted, so be it. She concluded that for now, the best plan for her would be to allow Knock Out to pursue this hunt for Breakdown the way he wanted. That way, she would not be to blame when their adventure turned up futile and they would return with nothing. She looked down at her pedes, then stole a glance up at Knock Out. Grimacing to herself, Arcee conceded that she was not looking forward to his inevitable realisation of the truth...

 

“Nothing, huh?” As Arcee asked this, she warily watched Knock Out from the corner of her optics. Instantly, he crossed his arms in displeasure with Raf’s despairing yet inevitable search results.

Over the video conference, Raf and Jack both winced in reaction to the intimidating reaction from the former-Decepticon. The two boys were probably relieved they were separated by a spacebridge from Knock Out. Adjusting his glasses nervously, Raf looked back down at his laptop and double checked his results.

“There’ve been no recent archaeological finds in or from Brazil,” he reported tentatively. He typed into the laptop some more but again shook his head. “Maybe if I knew exactly what I’m looking for, it might help narrow things down a little?”

He and Jack looked up at Arcee expectantly for an answer, but she could only pass the look to Knock Out beside her. It wasn’t her information to provide and she wasn’t surprised when she was met with resistance.

Knock Out made a dismissive gesture. “Then I’m sure Arcee and I will be able to surface results out in the field on our own.”

“Knock Out,” Arcee made a feeble raise of her servos, “We don’t even know where to begin searching-”

“I have co-ordinates.” His patience was waning out of his tone.

“Did you lose something?” Jack interrupted. “It’s not a relic or anything like that? Please tell me Cybertron’s fate doesn’t hinge on finding more objects.”

“What harm is it in telling them,” Arcee asked, struggling to keep the exasperation out of her vocaliser. She watched as Knock Out began to enter co-ordinates into the spacebridge control panel. “If you think he’s out there-”

She was cut off by the sound of his drumming digits on the control panel as he composed himself. Clearly, Knock Out was fighting to keep his anger in check. “I _know_ he’s out there.” He turned around, servo resting on hip, “Arcee,” his vocaliser surprisingly diplomatic, “If this video conference was a ploy to deter me-”

“Of course not!” Arcee interjected, offended. “I’m trying to be helpful and narrow our search parameters. Wouldn’t you rather find him right away instead of orns-”

“Him?” she heard Jack ask.

But Knock Out didn’t even hear the human over his response. “I would rather be out finding him _now_ -”

“We’re looking for… a bot?” Raf asked.

Frustrated with Knock Out, Arcee shook her helm. “Airachnid could have literally put him anywhere! I understand it, look, I get it. If it were Cliffjumper, I’d want to be out there overturning every rock for him, believe me, I would. But there’s got to be a better way to go about this- don’t roll your optics at me!”

“How did they lose a bot in Brazil?” Jack whispered, resigning to the fact that he was being ignored by the two bots arguing.

“I don’t really understand what’s going on,” Raf replied since no-one else would.

Knock Out again had his back to her, at the control panel preparing the spacebridge.

Arcee narrowed her brow ridges. “Why do you always turn away bots that are trying to help you!”

“Help me!?” Knock Out whipped around, slamming a servo to his chassis. “Such as!? Please, do provide me with a list of ALL the bots clamoring to help ex-Decepticon Knock Out! That’s one thing I can tell you, Arcee, as a Decepticon, you get used to having to do everything for yourself because nobot else will!”

“Wait so,” Jack spoke up, shaking his head. “You guys lost a bot in Brazil? Who exactly are we talking about here?”

“You asked me to help you find him and here I am, I’m keeping my end of the bargain, okay?” Arcee slapped both servos to her waist and held her ground. “But he could literally be anywhere, we could walk right past him hundreds of times and never know-”

“Maybe it’s Skyquake?” Jack questioned Raf dubiously. “Think they’re looking for him?”

“You think I don’t know that?” Knock Out snapped back at Arcee, still ignoring the boys. “Insecticons are notorious for pocketing stolen treasures in the shadows of the seeker towers. But I will do whatever it takes, for however long it takes! If you want to leave me in Brazil, then so be it-”

“Something the size of a bot, like Skyquake... hidden… in the Shadows? Like… the Shadowzone?”

Everyone turned to Raf.

Arcee was about to speak but Knock Out strode past her, even politely pushing her aside, and leaned against the control panel.

“‘ _Shadow_ zone’?” he inquired suspiciously. He pressed himself as far against the control panel as possible, his fierce red eyes pinpointing Raf to the spot with a demanding curiosity. “Do explain, fleshling.”

“Well, uh,” Raf stammered under the intensity emanating from Knock Out. “Jack, Miko and I, uh, when two groundbridges go up at the same time, they created a portal to the Shadowzone. It’s like an alternate dimension where-”

“Of course,” Knock Out murmured, tapping his chinguard in thought. “Yes… that makes absolute sense!”

“What do you mean?” Arcee asked, still not comprehending. “What about the Shadowzone?”

“Insecticons… they can cloak themselves,” Knock Out said exuberantly, stepping towards her. “That’s why they live at the base of seeker towers, in the shadows. Airachnid even showed me this skill herself when we were in Garrus One! Do you remember? It was like she wasn’t even there!” And Arcee’s optics flew open when Knock Out placed both servos on her shoulders. “She hid above us, with her insecticons, in the shadows! The Shadowzone! He’s in the Shadowzone in Brazil! Let’s go!!”

“Okay, well, that’s great,” Arcee replied, bemused. She slid out from under his servos. “How do we recreate that? Last time, the children were stuck in there and-”

“And Ratchet had to recreate the effect with the spacebridge to get us out,” Raf explained confidently. He pulled up some information on an adjacent screen. “If you need to get to the Shadowzone, I can recreate what Ratchet calculated to save us, but to bridge you in.“

“But if I remember correctly,” Arcee said cautiously, “We weren’t able to communicate with you in the Shadowzone. How will we be able to get out?”

“We could set a pre-agreed time?” Jack suggested. “Be at the same coordinates in a few hours or whatever you guys need? We’ll leave the portal up until you guys come out.”

“It seems dangerous,” Arcee sighed, looking up at Knock Out next to her. He was staring back at her with determination. “I mean, we’re not even sure if-”

“If we don’t start somewhere, we’re just going to be standing around forever,” Knock Out said, his mouthplate taut. “Arcee, let’s start somewhere _now _.”__

He didn’t say it, but she could hear it. He was pleading with her again.

“Alright, Raf,” Arcee nodded. “Fire up the spacebridge.”

“I’ll send you the coordinates!” Knock Out added, rapidly pressing buttons on the control panel. “This is where his life signal went offline.” He didn’t see Jack and Raf exchange curious glances, probably still wondering who ‘he’ is. “It’s not without reason that she would hide him right away- especially if Dreadwing was still after her.”

“I’m prepping the bridge,” Raf informed. “How much time do you guys think you’ll need?”

Knock Out exchanged a look with Arcee. She bit her lower mouthplate. “Let’s give this a joor- ah!” she caught herself using Cybertronian terminology. “Make that three earth hours. That’s plenty of time to explore and if we don’t find it,” she turned to Knock Out, “then we’ll always come back. Sounds good?”

Knock Out nodded.

“Three hours it is then. Be careful,” Jack added. “If you guys don’t return, then we’re sending all the Autobots in after you guys, alright?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Arcee replied with a wry smile.

Eagerly, Knock Out stood by the generating bridge. With his attention diverted, Jack turned his head in Knock Out’s direction then back at her with a worried look.

“Don’t worry Jack,” she smiled. “I know what I’m doing.” She glanced back at Knock Out, then added in a whisper, “He’s not actually that bad.” She received a dubious grimace from Jack for that.

“Bridge ready!” Raf called out. “We’ll see you guys in three hours, ‘kay?”

“Understood,” Arcee confirmed. She approached Knock Out, in front of the spacebridge. “T-minus three hours and counting,” she affirmed one last time.

“Good luck,” Jack added.

She allowed Knock Out to step through first before giving a final wave to Jack and Raf before pushing through into the alternate dimension that awaited her on the other side.

Arcee didn’t vent. She didn’t even move. Not until the wash of the spacebridge swept over her completely did the silence seize her. Instantly, she tensed, the world she was now in forcefully embraced her unlike any other sensation she had ever experienced.

Gasping to herself, Arcee realised as she focused and re-focused her optics, that it was not her senses, but the world itself that was now washed in a muted sepia tone. Curiously, her optics darted, first left, then right. Only when she finally accepted the absolute silence surrounding her did she eventually allow herself to ease the tension in her struts and take that first step.

Somehow, the Shadowzone didn't seem real. The concept of such a still world was so alien to her, and yet, undeniably, here she stood in it.

“This is so chilling,” she said aloud to herself. It was bizarre to realise how much the real world made noise around her. Only in its absence did she notice how in the Shadowzone, that not even the leaves on the tress moved. “It’s not natural," she murmured.

Arcee had taken a few more steps, marvelling at the Shadowzone surrounding her. It hadn't even occurred to her that Knock Out had neither spoken nor moved upon entering the alternate dimension.

“Knock Out? A-are you okay?” Only when Knock Out began to slowly sink to his leg joints did Arcee rush over. “What’s wrong? Is it the Shadowzone- is it-"

“Yes…” he said finally. He lifted his helm and Arcee was shockingly moved by the haunted look that overcame him. “I-I can feel it," he gasped, optics wide with shock. "I can feel it! I guess... I was hoping for it… but I didn’t expect it, I wasn’t even thinking about it…”

“About what?” she pressed frantically. Could the Shadowzone have adverse affects on on bots, she considered this with fright. But her concern was negated.

“My sparkbond,” he said resolutely, resting a servo to his chassis, above where his spark lay underneath. “He’s here," and he met her optics. Knock Out said with utter conviction, "I feel him.”

Stepping back, Arcee looked Knock Out up and down. Could it be, could he be right then? This whole time could he- could _Airachnid_ have been right? Was Knock Out's conjux endura still alive?

She spluttered, “I don’t understand-”

“Do you remember-” Knock Out interrupted while rising, “when we spoke of sparkbonds?” She nodded cautiously. “I told you I felt nothing. I never understood why, but now it all makes sense. Arcee, you don't know how I questioned myself obsessively…” he shook his helm bitterly, dentae clenched. “I thought it was me, but I realise… I felt no sparkrift symptoms not because I lacked feelings, but because he is here, in this Shadowzone, that is neither reality nor the Allspark." His vocaliser rose as emotion gripped him. "He’s here, Arcee. I’m not leaving until I find him.”

She almost questioned him. It was reactionary. She still could not accept the fact that Airachnid would have kept one of her victims alive. Just as emotions overcame Knock Out, emotions too were beginning to just bubble in the bottom of Arcee’s pit. Even if she didn’t quite understand them yet.

"I still remember when I felt that void shake my spark," Knock Out continued, startling her. "I was working with the vehicons in the medbay, repairing some limbs," he rambled. "I was still angry... about Breakdown and what he did." Did he know he was still talking to her, she wondered uneased by his candidness. "I thought perhaps I had just reached apathy, but when the nothingness seized my sparkbond, I had never felt such a sensation and yet it didn't hit me hard. It grew, gradually, more and more painful. I have... been suffering for so long... Arcee," and she flinched as he looked back at her, acknowledging her presence. "I didn't tell him before he died, but I feel it so _passionately._ We need to find him so I can tell him. Do you understand?”

Arcee could feel the desperation rippling off of him and it shook her entire frame. It was that same desperation she had felt about Cliffjumper. There were so many words left unsaid with Cliffjumper, so many regrets. If she had been told that morning, that this would be the day that she would lose her lover, she would have… have what? Sparkmerged? Only to feel the pain of the rift in a few joors? It didn’t matter because he was dead. It was truth, it was fact. Cliffjumper was dead, just like Breakdown was dead. Dead bots didn’t come back.

No, she couldn’t believe this until they found this hidden spark. Not unlike Knock Out, Arcee had her own emotions at stake here as well. She vented out heavily.

“If he’s here, we’ll find him,” she said while helping him back to his pedes. “Just because I didn’t sparkmerge with Cliffjumper, doesn’t mean I don’t understand.”

With nothing more than a brusque nod, Knock Out began to wander the Shadowzone. Venting out one more time, although this time with added frustration, she trailed after him. Her optics sharply regarding the brush, anywhere where Airachnid could have hidden an alleged sparkchamber.

“Look!”

Alerted by his call, Arcee chased after Knock Out and bent down next to him as he scrutinised the dirt. Right in front of him were pieces of blue metal scrap. As Arcee considered the larger pieces, she noticed there was even more scrap scattered throughout the entire area. It would have been an easy miss, as most of it was nearly covered by dirt. In fact, it was all over the place! Truly, evidence of a Cybertronian battle that was slowly being obscured by time.

Distracted by his movement, Arcee noticed Knock Out gesturing to the trees above them. Squinting her optics, she realised with abhorrence that he was indicating to strands of deteriorating webbing, hanging ominously in the trees. Far too large to belong to any earth spider.

Knock Out stood up, silent. The blue metal scrap strewn haphazardly in the dirt. The insecticon webbing lingering in the trees. It was obvious what had happened here. Arcee held her glossa, waiting for him to internalise the crime scene. Her optics were glued to him, watching him, waiting for some kind of movement that could possibly reveal his guarded thoughts. But in his silence, Knock Out was open to read and what Arcee saw, she empathised.

Finally, with optics narrowed, Knock Out said quietly, “Breakdown was here.”

Arcee hesitated to speak. “Can you use your sparkbond to locate him?”

“Hm? No,” Knock Out shook his helm. “It doesn’t intensify based on proximity.” Then to her surprise, he added with a frail smirk, “That would be obnoxious”. He began to walk around, now looking by the edge of the brush. “But mark my words,” he glanced over his shoulder plating at her before disappearing through the brush, “Breakdown _is_ here.”

Arcee again regarded the hanging webbing. Knock Out’s theory of Brazil was no shot in the dark after all. Yes, Airachnid _had_ been here, as had Breakdown. But, she reminded herself, that did not mean Breakdown was still alive.

Following Knock Out’s lead, Arcee pushed through the brush and into the thick forest after Knock Out only to…

… end up on the other side of the same clearing..?!

“What the..!” Yes, there- right in front of her across the clearing! It was the brush and trees where she had just pushed through! Doing a double-take, she glanced behind herself. What was going on!? “Knock Out?!” she called, “Where did you go!”

“Hm?” she heard his vocaliser from the direction she had just attempted to go. “I’m just over here.”

Cautious, Arcee again traipsed across the clearing and made another attempt to pursue Knock Out into the forest.

“Arcee, look at this,” she heard him say and yet…

He was nowhere to be seen. Arcee had made it into a thicket of trees but surely Knock Out should be right here. She looked all about herself, utterly confused and lost.

“Uh, Knock Out?” Arcee raised her vocaliser. “D-do you notice anything weird going on?” She strained her audio receptors for his response in hopes of pinpointing him.

“No?” came his reply, now somewhere off to the left when she had been so sure he had been to the right somewhere. “Arcee, quit dawdling! Come look at this.”

Growling in frustration both at the maze she was now in and at Knock Out’s impatience with her, Arcee pushed through the trees. Fighting to weave in and around the thick forest for what seemed like forever, it finally hit her that maybe she was going in a loop again. Surely she had seen that vine three times by now!

“What is going on here!?” Arcee was completely fed up. “I’m going in circ-”

Suddenly, she heard the sound of quickly snapping branches followed by a loud _THUD!_

“Knock Out!” she yelled out. Quickly, she ran in the direction of the sounds and again ended up by that same vine by those same trees. “Did something crash!? I can’t get to you, I’m stuck!”

As soon as she shouted this, Arcee heard Knock Out’s vocaliser, but what terrified her was that he was not speaking to her- but to _somebot else_.

“W-who are you!?”

Panicked, Arcee again ran full force, weaving through the trees towards Knock Out. Leaping into the air, she somersaulted through the trees and into… a clearing. Even so, there was still no Knock Out.

“ _Frag!_ ” she swore under her breath and began to search around herself, bewildered. Fear rose inside her as it dawned on her that not only could she not find Knock Out, but finding their way back to the meeting co-ordinates was now an entire invisible labyrinth away! And now they were being pursued by an unknown bot!

She attempted to call to him again, “Knock O-”

“W-wait!” she heard him stammer. “What are y-” and abruptly his vocaliser cut off.

Arcee froze, straining her audio receptors to pick up a sound- _any_ sound. But all she heard next, was silence. No sounds of venting or movement. It was as if Knock Out had just completely vanished from the Shadowzone.

Fear seizing her, she shouted, “Knock Out!?” When no response came, she instantly slid her blades out of her arms, preparing herself.

Arcee stood there in complete and total silence. Even so, her entire inner systems were alert and running. Her optics scanned her clearing, darting from one place to the other, then turning, arms at the ready. Whatever got Knock Out, surely, it had to be coming for her too…

Arcee made another attempt for contact. “Knock Out…”

Then just as she did, she felt a blast of light emerge from behind her. Turning once again, she shielded her optics from the bright light of a groundbridge emerging before her. Squinting, she saw Knock Out stumble out. Quickly and looking terrified, he ran next to her, pulling out his own saws for protection.

“Who were you with-” Aree began, but a silhouette, a _massive_ silhouette, stepped out of the groundbridge.

Gasping, Arcee and Knock Out both took a few steps back, forced to look up, up, he must’ve been the same height as Optimus. Slowly, the figure drew out his servos, reaching towards her. She raised her blades, ready for a fight.

“Come,” the voice said, “I can get you both out of here.”

“Who… are you?” Arcee asked, raising her vocaliser over the sound of the groundbridge. Still apprehensive and yet, something about the voice, so calm and soothing, so… _familiar_ , gently coaxed her into lowering her blades. “Do I-”

And when the initial light burst of the groundbridge subsided, Arcee was able to see, no recognise, the figure before her.

Towering over the both of them, bulky and massive, was a pure white seeker. Distinct in his colouring, with soft blue and red markings and in those rare blue optics for a seeker, Arcee recognised him instantly. Even if the last time she had seen him had been millions of years ago during the early days of the war. Yes, to Arcee, he was a ghost for she had long since thought him dead.

But real as day, he stared back at her equally haunted by whom stood in front of him. "Arcee!? By the Allspark, is that really you!?"

"I..." Arcee stammered utterly blindsided. Her past was literally coming alive before her.

"Arcee, follow me," he insisted in that always benign tone of his. "I can bridge you both to safety.”

"Okay," Knock Out spoke up, still behind Arcee. He had not been so willing to lower his blades. "But _who_ are you?"

Finding her glossa, Arcee sheathed her blades. "Do you remember, I told you about a pair of seekers I knew once?"

"Vaguely," Knock Out replied, guardedly looking the large seeker up and down objectively.

The familiar comforting smile spread on the mech's faceplate, hitting Aree hard with nostalgia. He replied for her: "My name is Skyfire, friend."

Even with his motioning, Arcee was frozen in shock. Without her taking the first step, Knock Out continued to linger behind her. All she could do was stare, mouthplate open at what had to be a ghost. “I thought you were dead,” she vented, completely at a loss for words.

“And I never thought I’d see you, or any familiar face ever again,” he returned, his vocaliser soft, almost melancholy. Her own optics were glued to his, both of them unable to digest that the other was truly standing before them. Skyfire shook his helm in disbelief, “Arcee, I just can’t believe it’s you. Come, let me take you out of this maze and I can show you my home. It's safe there.”

Still caught in an incredulous shock, Arcee only took that first step forwards when Skyfire gestured to the groundbridge. Not even registering Knock Out’s baffled expression, Arcee grasped onto his wrist joint and together, they followed the giant bot through the groundbridge.

She barely heard Knock Out protest over the sound of the groundbridge, “But- we haven’t found him yet!” Then a moment later, on the other side of the bridge, he blurted out, “Is that… the _Harbinger_?”

Indeed, before them lay the crashed Decepticon ship, cradled between towers of rock. Far smaller than the _Nemesis_ , the _Harbinger_ was shaded in grey indicating they were still within the Shadowzone.

"Yes," Skyfire affirmed, stepping in front of them and the view. "The Shadowzone _Harbinger_ , I am afraid. Even so, it’s a suitable home when one has limited choices. But... Arcee! I... How did you end up here?” he asked, excitement beginning to rush into his vocaliser. “I never in my wildest imaginings would think somebot would find me here- and you of all bots! I resigned myself to the belief that if I were to escape, it would have to be by my own invention.”

It was like he had stepped out of her memories. That’s what it was. She was still staring at him, every bit as stunned. She had thought of him, as the years had gone by. Not all the time, but every once in awhile. Although all she had felt was guilt. Guilt that she had witnessed his 'death', like Tailgate, but had not been able to save him. Airachnid had said something about a growing list of ex-partners, and while Skyfire had been a friend and mentor, Airachnid had neglected to add his name to the list- or so Arcee had thought at the time.

“Skyfire… I thought you died.” she blurted out. His kind optics looked down at her. His smile faded. “I…” she stammered, and looked away. Arcee had grown so much during the war, and yet somehow, she felt that younger self surfacing within now, making her feel vulnerable. Surely, Arcee had thought that part of her had died too. “I told him you were dead after I saw you battle with Megatron in the arctic.”

When she looked back at Skyfire, there was a hurt, yet fierce look in his optics. Something she had rarely ever seen in him, perhaps only during their last few days before Skyfire’s assumed death. He shut his optics and shook his helm. “I have no delusions that he would think me dead by now.”

“Doubt it,” she said, a little begrudgingly, crossing her arms. 'He' wasn't one of her favourite topics.

But the ache still showed on his faceplate despite her apparent disdain for whom he spoke of. “Last I saw him-”

“While it’s all nice and pleasantries that you found your long lost _friend_ ,” Knock Out spoke up for the first time, reminding them both that Skyfire had not just saved one, but two bots. “But if we could hurry this little reunion along-”

“I’m sorry!” Skyfire exclaimed, either oblivious or ignoring Knock Out’s sneering attitude, Arcee wasn’t sure. (Although she assumed the latter.) “I don’t think we’ve introduced ourselves!” He bent over Knock Out, twice his height, to shake his servo. But Knock Out made no move to unite the gesture.

“Skyfire, yes, I heard,” he nodded with disinterest. “My name is Knock Out.” Then he flashed an aggressive grin to Arcee. “Arcee’s _new_ best friend.” She shot him a dirty look for being so passive aggressive. Clearly, he was not pleased with this side excursion to their original plan.

“Oh!” Skyfire leaned back. “I didn’t know! Arcee, is he your-”

“No!!” Arcee blurted, waving her servos for added emphasis. “Are you kidding me?! Definitely not! Besides, he’s, you know… like _you_.”

Skyfire furrowed his brow ridges dubiously. “Like me?”

“Yeah,” she said, “You know… like you like… cos you’re both-”

“Taken,” Knock Out butted in crudely. “Alas, she found me after I committed myself to another. She manages somehow,” and he cocked a mocking brow ridge at Arcee. She shot him another dirty scowl.

“Ah,” Skyfire said then frowned. “I see.” Yet clearly he still didn’t catch on.

"But I must have missed the part where you explained your relation to one another?" Knock Out watched Arcee from the corners of his optics. "Not exes, I hope? Because that would be awkward."

Skyfire let out a hardy laugh. "No! Assuredly not! I'm taken myself, actually."

"Skyfire and I met before the war," Arcee explained, keeping the exasperation she felt with Knock Out at bay. "My sires decided I needed some education before I was paired off, so I chose a topic that would help me escape, mentally at least. I aided in their planetary studies at the Iacon Hall of Records."

“Well don’t let me interrupt your little reunion,” Knock Out drawled, inspecting his clawed digits. “It’s not like we’re on a time crunch or anything,” and he looked back at her with cruel optics.

“We have plenty of time,” Arcee retorted, not amused with his attitude. “Skyfire, show us the _Harbinger_.”

Looking from one bot to the other tentatively, Skyfire nodded then turned to lead the way.

Arcee caught the silent snarl ripple onto Knock Out’s faceplate.

“Knock Out,” she whispered to him as they followed Skyfire up the ramp, guiding them inside. “He’s been in the Shadowzone for years, he may know where to look.”

“ _I_ know where to look” Knock Out shot back.

“But for how long?" Arcee countered. His optics flew open in shock from her harsh return. Perhaps her snappy response had been a bit too cruel, but she was none too pleased with his attitude towards Skyfire. This was a real lost friend found, didn't he understand that? Not some shot in the dark tale told to him by a known lying masochist spider-bot.

So not willing to look back at Knock Out's expression might hold for that retort, she walked past him to catch up with her friend.

The halls of the _Harbinger_ were not unlike the _Nemesis_ \- Decepticon design, cold and unfriendly. Like most ships, Arcee felt dwarfed in size and she found it difficult to imagine living aboard. The thought of continuing to live on the _Nemesis_ , was depressing enough. Not that living in the refurbished Waves’ Estate was any more appealing to her either.

“So, how long exactly have you lived here, Skyfire?” Arcee asked, struggling to keep in stride with the wide steps of the vast bot. She barely heard Knock Out trailing behind them. In Arcee’s processor, all she could think about was the endless list of questions for her old, long-forgotten friend. Straining her pipes to look up at him, she marvelled at how much he looked just like her fading memories of him. Time had passed, but he was exactly the same as she remembered. For the first time, Arcee felt that connection to her older self, the Arcee before the war.

“Years,” Skyfire supplied with a venting sigh. “A few million, for a rough estimate. In retrospect, it didn’t take me long to find the _Harbinger_ to reside in. I flew around Earth for what felt like would become my entire existence in my exploration of the Shadowzone!” He smiled weakly, “Admittedly, it was a bit of a helmhurt to navigate the pockets within the dimension.”

“How did you figure it out?” Arcee asked incredulously curious, “I would try to exit one area, then end up in the same place on the other side. It was like a maze!” She had seen Skyfire touch something on his wrist when the groundbridge had closed behind them. “With that?” she pointed to a device strapped around his wrist joint. “Is that a… remote groundbridge controller?”

Skyfire looked down at the small device he wore. “Indeed! Acute as always, Arcee!” he repeated a phrase he had so often said to her when she had been interning for him. He grinned down at her proudly. “It connects to my groundbridge here on the _Harbinger_. It’s certainly helps in navigating the Shadowzone pockets.”

"You're ingenious never fails to astound me, Skyfire," Arcee said, humbled by his brilliance.

"Alas," Skyfire exuded a long, rattling sigh, "genius hindered by the confines of the Shadowzone though."

Skyfire lead them down a corridor and into a lab. On the screens were various readings, while on the counters were different sets of experiments running. One in particular caught Arcee’s optics.

"Is this a distillery?" Arcee asked, bending down to watch crystallised energon in its raw state slowly being processed through various makeshift tubes and beakers into a slow dripping consumable liquid.

Enthused by her interest, Skyfire nodded. "Yes! I have it set to run while I’m in stasis. As you can see the process is slow as I don’t have all the proper equipment for proper production.”

“You put yourself in stasis?” Arcee asked incredulously. “Is that how you survived all these years?”

Skyfire chuckled and folded his arms. “Well, Arcee, I wouldn’t say ‘survive’ so much as ‘endure’. There isn’t a whole lot to accomplish here. I have my timers to wake me from my stasis every few vorns, or, when my scanners,” and he strode over to the series of screens displaying various readings, “Discover a life signal within the Shadowzone, which is how I located you. See?"

There was only one dot on the screen over the map for the pocket area surrounding the _Harbinger_.

"There's three of us- why only one dot?" Arcee inquired.

"My scanners only pick up a dot per zone, not how many are there," Skyfire explained. I can not tell how many visitors per pocket zone, even so I’ve had so many near-misses recently,” he looked away, forlorn. “But every time I reach their destination, they’re gone or…”

“Or what?”

“Or a state worse than death.” Skyfire’s wings drooped behind him. “I found a seeker, but he was, I don’t even know how to describe it. Processor fried, and yet he continued to live, wandering the same pocket forever. At first, I wondered if his deterioration was a side effect of the Shadowzone, but then I realised, it should have probably affected me a couple million of years ago,” he added with a small chuckle. He fell silent and gave her a solemn look. “Unfortunately, I can not save the two of you from the Shadowzone, but only offer you my company and resources.”

“Then today’s your lucky day,” Arcee smiled. She reached forwards and placed tiny reassuring servos overtop his. But the simple touch stirred the great seeker into lifting his helm. “If you can use your groundbridge to take us back to where you found us, we have a bridge coming for us in roughly 2-3 earth hours.”

Skyfire didn’t move. “H-how?”

“I have friends on the other side who know how to bridge to and from the Shadowzone,” Arcee explained. “That’s how we ended up here, Skyfire. We bridged here on purpose.”

“A-are you positive?” And she nodded with enthusiasm. “I-I’ll finally be free of this dimension!? Arcee… you don’t… you can’t even fathom how much I want out of here! All this time, while I’ve been out of stasis, I’ve been plotting… calculating! How to escape but Arcee, if you can free me, then I am forever in your debt!”

“That’s the plan,” Arcee grinned. She couldn’t believe, after all these years, this was where Skyfire was. To live in this silent dimension, alone, for millions of years, even if most of it had been spent in stasis, it was a punishment far worse than death. Yet clearly, by all the experiments and charts Skyfire had running, he had never given up hope that he would escape.

“But why in Primus would you come to the Shadowzone on purpose?” Skyfire asked, aghast. “What could you possibly want here that you would risk this dimension?”

“Well we’re not navigating this alternate dimension for fun and games, are we dear?” Knock Out had not moved from his spot by the entryway, arms folded behind his back. He tipped his helm to Skyfire and drawled with a wry smirk, “So if the tête-à-tête is over, time is precious. We'd appreciate it if you’ll kindly drop us where you found us, we have a missing comrade to locate.”

“A comrade?” Skyfire asked, concerned. “I wasn’t under the impression you were looking for somebot.” Arcee didn’t make optics contact with him. “Is this recent?" He turned to his monitors and pulled up a maps of the pocket areas surrounding the co-ordinates where he had found them- where Breakdown's spark supposed lay. There were no signs of life.

“He’s been missing for longer than that,” Arcee explained. She fought to keep the exasperation out of her vocaliser. “We just recently thought he might be in the Shadowzone.”

Skyfire’s expression fell. “Well, I’m afraid if you’re looking for somebot in particular, my scanners have not picked up any bots since my unfortunate discovery of Skyquake. If the contact with the Shadowzone was brief, I may have missed it. But if your friend was in the Shadowzone, I would know.”

Knock Out rubbed the tips of his pointed digits together. “Oh, he’s here,” he said dismissively.

Arcee glanced at Skyfire and he exchanged a look with her. “Well… my equipment could be faulty,” he began. Clearly, he was trying to be nothing but diplomatic even if he clearly did not believe this was the case. “But…”

“His sparkchamber _is_ here,” Knock Out repeated firmly, now glaring at Arcee’s friend. “I-”

“A sparkchamber!” Skyfire exclaimed, his wings shooting straight up. “Why didn’t you say so! I found one! Yes, I found one a few orns ago! Oh, I should have thought of it right away!”

In a flash, Knock Out’s haughty attitude drained from his entire frame. Now, he appeared faint, even wavering slightly. Arcee too stood rooted to the spot, equally unsure if she had heard Skyfire correctly. Surely the Shadowzone was causing her to hear things. No, this still didn't prove anyth-

"Perhaps your missing friend is here after all!" were Skyfire's parting words as he dashed out of the room, Knock Out bolting after him. Not to be left behind, Arcee quickly followed.

“You actually found a sparkchmaber!?” Arcee called from behind as all three bots ran down the _Harbinger_ ’s halls.

“Yes!” Skyfire shouted over his shoulder plating. Darting into a room that looked like a medbay, Skyfire approached a row of large drawers in the wall. One had a light on signalling contents lay within. With servos on the handle, he turned to finish speaking to Arcee and Knock Out who waited with bated sparks for him to open the cabinet. Maybe it was something that _resembled_ a sparkchamber?

“A life signal went online a few vorns ago,” he explained, “but when I reached the location, I couldn’t find a single bot and yet the signal persisted. It was only when I looked in the base of a tree that I found-”

Unable to contain his patience, Knock Out pushed Skyfire aside crudely and tore open the drawer. Venting heavily, he did not move.

Arcee strained to peer over Knock Out. “Is it…”

“Breakdown,” he said.

Slowly, he reached into the drawer and pulled out… exactly what Skyfire said, a sparkchamber. Straining under its heavy weight, Knock Out carried it to a preparation table where he placed it as carefully as he could.

Indeed, a sparkchamber.

It was like Arcee was staring at a myth come alive. Never had she given this story of Breakdown’s spark being saved much of a glimmer of belief. Because why would Airachnid save him and not Tailgate? Why couldn’t Cliffjumper had been somehow saved? But here it was, the grail that Knock Out had sought all this time, what he boasted was out there, the solution to _his_ pain. No matter how long Arcee stared at the chamber, no matter how much she shuttered her optics, it was not a hallucination.

And Knock Out just stood there. Staring at the chamber. Most likely the same thoughts running through his own processor.

Finally, Arcee spoke hesitantly, “Are you sure his spark is inside?”

Without answering her and in a flash, Knock Out pressed on the chamber’s doors and slowly slipped them open. Answering her doubt was a burst of soft light reflecting off of Knock Out. The light hit the flecks of metal flake in his red paint, causing him to come alight with sparkles. The sight was both dazzling and profound, a perfect illustration to the end of Knock Out's story, she thought. So when she took that next step and craned her pipes to look inside the chamber, Arcee was humbled to see the yellow spark burning back at her.

All three bots completely awed by the sight could do nothing but stare in sedated silence.

Gently, Knock Out reached out a servo and laid it upon the outer glow of the spark. He let his servo rest there, feeling the warmth and glow of the spark against himself. He closed his optics. “It’s him,” Knock Out said, opening his optics again.

This time, Arcee got a good look at him and was taken aback to see a slight, but truly genuine smile, on his faceplate. She shouldn't be surprised, it was obvious how much Knock Out yearned to find Breakdown, but it was not that what perturbed her. Instead, it was witnessing such a simple, caring smile, with no ulterior motives behind it, being presented by a Decepticon.

“I’ve never seen a sparkchamber out of a bot before,” Skyfire said gently. “What do you intend to do with him?”

“Fix him,” Knock Out stated, now out of his trance. He re-sealed the chamber as he said, “I’m still in possession of the body. It really can’t be that difficult.” He did not lift his servos off of the sparkchamber.

"So now that we've found your friend, are we just waiting for when the bridge goes up?" Skyfire asked, unmistakable excitement creeping into his vocaliser.

"Pretty much," Arcee replied.

She felt disorientated. There was no doubting it now, was there? She looked from the sparkchamber to Knock Out, then back to the chamber. Who else would that spark be? Besides, Knock Out would be able to tell. For some reason, Airachnid had slain Breakdown, and yet, ripped out the chamber before he could die, preserving him in a state of limbo. But for what reason? Why would she do that? Even if she wasn't sure if the question was that important, it still nagged in the back of Arcee's processor.

"Then if we're going to be leaving soon, there's some items I would like to pack to bring with us," Skyfire said and began moving around the medbay. He brought down an empty storage crate and started rifling through drawers, filling it.

But Arcee couldn't keep her optics off of Knock Out and he couldn't keep his off the sparkchamber. A look of deep concentration was upon his faceplate and she knew by his silence alone that he was overwhelmed. From her observations, Knock Out always seemed to shut down when he was experiencing anything personal.

Why would he share with her his thoughts anyway? She had been wrong. Smokescreen had not been the answer to his loss. One down, Arcee thought, and one still to go after all. Again, for the second time, Arcee realised she was going to be alone on her journey to cure her own loss.

But before she could dwell on that any further, Skyfire interrupted her thoughts. "I can't believe we're leaving here," he repeated, exuberant. "And that you found your missing friend!" Knock Out looked at him, as if shaken out of a stupor. "Perhaps the Shadowzone had its purpose in the end, as long as it's all truly over."

Arcee smiled comfortingly, "Not much time left. Sure you have room for everything in that crate?"

"Oh, I'm not bringing much," Skyfire said. He was hunched over the crate, shifting through the contents he had packed. "Just a few necessities for when I travel."

"We've got supplies back on Cybertron," Arcee shrugged. "You can always restock there too. And I'm sure Ratchet wouldn't mind sharing either."

Skyfire gave her a bizarre look. "Cybertron!?"

Arcee flinched. "I guess I forgot to fill you in on probably the most important detail of what's going on outside the Shadowzone, huh? We restored Cybertron. The Autobots won the war."

"The war's _over?_ " Skyfire's optics flew open.

"Guess you cat-napped through that one during your million years-long stay here," she gestured at the colour-drained palette surrounding them. "Looks like you won't have to pick a side after all."

Skyfire double shuttered his optics. Slowly he stood up. "How did you win the war? Is Megatron-"

"Unfortunately not," Arcee crossed her arms. She suppressed a sneer. "Alive and kicking, I'm sorry to report. But long story short, final battle, we won and then restored the planet with the omega lock."

Skyfire lifted a digit to his chinguard in thought. "Is that anything related to the omega keys?"

Arcee frowned. "How do you know-"

"Starscream had one," he explained. "Actually, he came back with a few more. He mentioned them by name but expressed that he didn't know what they were for."

"Wait." Arcee held up a servo. "Since when have you been in contact with Starscream while you've been in the Shadowzone?"

"I haven't," Skyfire said. "Not in contact, but only through observation. I saw him here- on the _Harbinger_." Arcee thought she saw Knock Out glance Skyfire's way, but when she took a good look at him, he was back to staring, focused, on the sparkchamber.

"Arcee," Skyfire stressed, "You can't believe how shocked I was, living here, on the Shadowzone _Harbinger_ for millions of years only to see Starscream crawl aboard and take residence here! I..." His expression fell and even Arcee, as much as she disliked Starscream, felt empathy for Skyfire. "He never knew I was right there the whole time. So close. But a world apart. Arcee, he looked so different. He was so..."

"Starscream?” Knock Out spoke up. Both bots turned to look at him. "Yes," he said, a lingering servo still resting on the sparkchamber. "Yes, he did mention the _Harbinger_ when he returned to Megatron."

"So he did go back to him..." Skyfire sounded utterly embittered. Subtle, but anger was visibly surfacing inside the typically calm bot. Arcee could see this in his servos balled up into fists.

Knock Out let out a cold barking laugh, shocking her by his lack of compassion. "Like a mini-con!" he mocked.

Skyfire looked absolutely affronted, a rare sight to see in him. One thing Arcee knew was that Knock Out had better tread carefully about what he said regarding Starscream around Skyfire. This might not end well.

"Do you know him?" Skyfire blurted out, incredulous.

"Uh, what?" Knock Out looked caught off guard.

"Starscream," Skyfire explained, "Did you know him?"

Knock Out's brow ridge furrowed and he looked from Skyfire, to Arcee then back. "Yes, I knew him. You could say I knew him quite intimately!” and he gave another brash laugh.

Immediately, Arcee began swiping her servo against her pipes in a swift motion to get Knock Out to shut the frag up.

“‘Intimately’?” Skyfire asked, attention perked. “What do you mean by that?”

Knock Out was going to respond, probably about to dig further into his grave, but Arcee instantly cut him off. “Knock Out was the Decepticon medic on the Nemesis, Skyfire,” she explained quickly. “The, uh, only one, in fact. So he was technically Starscream's doctor."

Skyfire digested this information quietly. He looked down, contemplated this, then stared back at Knock Out.

"So," Skyfire began, "when you say... 'intimately'..."

"Well somebot had to clean up Megatron's mess," Knock Out smirked cruelly. "Did you think..." he looked shocked, then laughed, "Oh, I don't go downtown with my patients recreationally! No, definitely not. Besides, Megatron doesn't like to share."

Arcee didn't think Skyfire's optics could open any further than they already were. Yet they did. He took a step towards Knock Out and somehow the rattling step on the _Harbinger's_ metal floors shook the entire room more so than his normal steps, shaking both of the smaller bots.

" _Explain._ "

For the first time, the seriousness of the situation hit Knock Out. For once, he actually looked scared.

“Oh come on," Knock Out took a step backwards, still unwilling to let his servo leave the sparkchamber. “Everybot knows that. _Everybot!_ ”

"No." Skyfire clenched his servos and flexed his mighty wings. "Not 'everybot'. I want to know. What exactly are the details between Starscream and Megatron?"

Knock Out looked to Arcee for help, but she could offer none. "How should I know," he hastened to say, "What goes on behind closed doors-"

"But you said you were his doctor, the only one, did you not?" Skyfire insisted. His impressionable size clearly intimidated Knock Out whenever he took a step towards him. "You must know based on your medical examinations- why would he end up in the medbay, right? What did he need, what was wrong with Starscream?"

“I mean really!” he exclaimed, “Who are you to even ask me all this! Yes, I’m a doctor,” he chuckled, “So I can't give out this kind of information to just anybody! There’s something to be said about patient-doctor confidentiality, hah?” But it was clear to Arcee that Knock Out didn’t give an aft about confidentiality and merely wanted to deflect the conversation.

Skyfire inclined his helm and said, “I’m Starscream's sparkmate. So please, do go on.”

Knock Out’s mouthplate was agape. "Starscream!? _Starscream??_ Starscream had a sparkmate!? Did you know that!?" he questioned Arcee.

She could only offer a simple shrug of indifference. Of course she knew. She knew since before the war when she had interned for not just Skyfire, but for Starscream as well. It had been the two seekers, and their assistant, Arcee, researching other planets every day at the Iacon Hall of Records. But just because she knew about it didn't mean her feelings towards Starscream had ever improved.

"This _whole time!?_ " Knock Out cringed and rubbed his helm. “Awkward…” he muttered, barely audible.

"Was it more than just abuse?" Skyfire pressed. "What kind are we talking? How often? And from what-"

Knock Out looked both horrified and overwhelmed. "I... I don't know! I wasn't _there._ I'm just the clean-up! He either stumbles into my medbay for repairs or I get the call if he can't-"

"Can't what?" Skyfire pushed.

Knock Out looked flabberghasted that he even needed to spell this out this much. "Couldn't make it to the medbay!"

Arcee grimaced uncomfortably. This was far too much detail for her tastes. Even just thinking of Starscream as a victim made her metal tingle.

"If things were that bad for Starscream on the _Nemesis_ , then I don't understand why he went back," Arcee voiced her thoughts, directing the heat off of Knock Out. "He was already free then. He could have brought the omega keys to us. Why would he just go back to Megatron if... if he was going to go through all that again?"

"I ask myself the same thing," Skyfire replied despondently.

There came a derisive sound from Knock Out. Arcee sent him a warning look that he ignored. "Well, I don't know if you've met the guy," he drawled, "but Megatron isn't exactly somebot you say 'no' to."

Arcee felt herself pale. "You mean... did it happen to you t-"

"No!" Knock Out exclaimed, looking panicked. "No, my role was to repair. That's as far was my involvement went. Look," he turned back to Skyfire and raised a servo in an attempt to calm his interrogator. "If you need to know what were the details of aaaall of Starscream's, um, examinations and surgeries, you can have his file when we return to the _Nemesis_ , will that quench your thirst?"

To both his and Arcee's relief, Skyfire nodded. Now maybe they could leave this uncomfortable conversation behind.

"I don't suppose," Skyfire said, walking back to his crate to close the lid. "The report might say where Starscream is now?"

"No, but he's on Earth somewhere," Knock Out said. He casually leaned on the table behind himself..

Arcee gave him a questioning look. "How do you know that?"

Knock Out furrowed his brows and avoided optic contact. "Because he told me."

"When?" she pressed.

"Oh," he gestured lazily with his servo, "Sometime after OP took his swan leap into the well."

"Wait, what?" Arcee stood up and took a step towards him. "How?"

He gave her a patronising look in return. "Let's just say you Autobots don't exactly use the _Nemesis_ ' security measures to its fullest." He smirked, but it faded. "I may have been restricted to wandering about, but that didn't stop others from wandering on in. He came on board to speak with me."

"What about?" she shook her helm in disbelief, "Why didn't you tell anybot this?"

"We spoke just outside my suite," Knock Out answered neutrally. "The conversation was brief."

"Why would he come see you?" she asked. It wasn't quite suspicion she was experiencing, but instead struggling to comprehend.

"I expect he wanted something from me," he said.

"Like what?" she insisted.

Knock Out paused, perhaps actually contemplating the question. But he settled on, "Somebot to kick around, I expect." He shrugged and folded his arms. Arcee was taken off guard by his serious expression. "I told him not to return, Arcee. I told him, if he did, I would turn him in to the Autobots. That's how it ended."

"Knock Out," she said seriously. "He could be a threat to Earth."

"He looked no threat to me," Knock Out replied, still stern. "From my diagnosis, loneliness does not do well with Starscream and with all of us here on Cybertron and him alone on Earth, I expect he would find much time to be alone with his thoughts."

"He's right," Skyfire agreed sullenly. Up until now, he had been listening to the full conversation quietly, soaking in everything Knock Out said- and didn't say. "I need to find him, he needs somebot. Me."

Arcee said nothing. Again, feeling uncomfortable whenever Skyfire spoke of Starscream. Never had she ever thought of Starscream in such terms. He was- how had Knock Out put it to her? ' _Rude_ '.

So Arcee listened, regardless, as she aided in Skyfire's packing of items while Knock Out did not move beyond arm length of the sparkchamber. Skyfire chatting exubertantly about escaping and describing what life had been like in the Shadowzone all these years.

One thought she couldn't help but realise, was that Skyfire might view himself as misfortunate to endup in the Shadowzone for so many years but Arcee actually viewed him something close to lucky. For he was something that no Cybertronian could claim anymore. No wonder Arcee felt such a rush chatting with Skyfire again.

He was exactly how he had been millions of years ago. Yes, Skyfire was literally the exact same bot. He had never experienced the war. Never changed. Unlike Arcee. How must he see her then? Did he notice how different she was to the petite high-caste femme who researched all day in the library for him?

If he noticed any change in her, he did not say anything. She could have pegged him as too distracted to notice, but then she knew Skyfire better than that. He was one of the most acutely observant bots Arcee had ever met. But also knew to catalog information internally, before ever presenting a hypothesis.

And before any of them knew it, it was time to leave.

Skyfire brought along his crate, while Knock Out followed closely behind with the fabled sparkchamber. Skyfire had cast one look at the _Harbinger_ before bridging them to the coordinates they had arrived at.

They were a little early, but Arcee felt no anxiety. Raf and Jack had everything under control, she was confident of this. Skyfire, on the other servo, would stretch his vast wings every now and then. Knowing him well, she understood that he was slightly anxious.

"Ready, Skyfire?" Arcee craned her pipes to look up at her towering friend next to her. "Your new life awaits on the other side."

"I was ready a good few millions of years ago," he responded confidently.

Just as the spacebridge flared open, Arcee glanced at Knock Out. Uncharacteristically quiet, he clung to the sparkchamber in his grasp. Holding it protectively, possessively, against himself. Staring at the chamber itself, Arcee could hardly believe a whole bot was there, right in that very spark, still pulsing, still alive. What kind of state was that? Better than whatever state Cliffjumper had died in, that's what she knew for certain.

The cascading glow signalled to Arcee that it was time to leave the Shadowzone. One last thought sprang to her. Breakdown's lost spark, Starscream's long-lost presumed dead sparkmate, both of them shrouded in the Shadowzone, secret from the rest of the world, the rest of reality, rather. Supposedly Skyquake still stalked this zone, undead, forever. So what other secrets could it still be keeping to itself?

Together, the four of them stepped through the spacebridge and Arcee had never felt so relieved to see the inside of the _Nemesis_ as they stepped onto the ship's bridge.

"I..." she felt Skyfire shift next to her. "I can't believe it..." He staggered forwards, looking about himself wildly as if he'd never seen a ship before. "I... I see so much colour! And..!" He paused briefly. "Sounds! I hear sounds!" He whipped around to face her and his massive wings flared boldly behind him in his excitement. "Arcee! We did it!"

And in a swift motion, he scooped Arcee up into the air and laughed with delight. "Millions of years and now I'm free! Thank-you, Arcee! Now I can find Sta- Oh?" Something behind Arcee caught Skyfire's attention. Slowly, he began to lower her to her pedes.

Skyfire tilted his helm questioningly. "Is he a friend of yours too?"

Arcee frowned. She turned to face the spacebridge portal still active and squinted against the bright light. Somebot was stepping through the bridge.

Next to her, Knock Out with his sparkchamber in his clutches gasped.

He didn't need to say it, because before he did, she recognised the silhouette.

Arcee transformed her servos into her guns and took aim.

It was Soundwave.

 

_**(The Flashback. . . Before the War)**_

“And take care of these too while you’re at it!” Starscream admonished, slamming more old dusty datascrolls in front of Arcee. She glared up at him as he stood straight and tall. The seeker flexed his long, slender wings on his back. “I expect all the data to be presented _in order_ _this time_ ," Starscream continued with a sneer. "It was a complete waste of my time sifting through your mess. What’s the point of having an assistant if she doesn’t _organise_.” And he whipped around, his wings almost smacking her in the faceplate as he stalked off.

Suppressing a growl, Arcee displayed her detest by rolling her optics dramatically. The point of an assistant, she thought sourly, was definitely _not_ to be doing all of _his_ tedious work. She lifted one of the datascrolls despondently, allowing it to drop back onto the massive pile. A spray of dust landed in her mouth. Disgusting! She exuded a frustrated groan. She was going to be here all day!

And it was all pointless too. She placed her faceplate in the palm of her servo and leaned against the desk. When her sires had allowed her to select a subject for education, she thought choosing 'planetary studies' would be more... she wiped her digit through the thick, sticky dust collecting on the datascrolls.... well, interesting. If Arcee had known she would be a bot word finder, she would have chosen something different. Like maybe interning at the Sparkling Distribution Centre where one of her sires worked as a new technology research scientist. Even that sounded more interesting to her now.

Restless and none too eager to start recording data, Arcee thought of maybe blowing off the research and do some _actual_ exploring... around Iacon.

Reaching out through her comm-link, Arcee attempted to contact the one bot she knew would understand her need for freedom.

"Mirage?" she whispered, ducking below the stack of datascrolls to avoid being caught. "You there?"

"Yo, babe, what's up?" came the familiar, cheery response. "Let me guess, you stuck at that boring old library again?"

"You guessed it," Arcee chuckled. "So how about it, you free for running around town?"

"No can do, hot stuff," came the disappointing reply. "My spark-brother is still in distress over what happened at the Distribution Centre. Keeps yammering on about some insecticon chick, I dunno, I think he hit his horned-helm pretty hard during the explosion."

"Sorry to hear that," Arcee lamented, although it was more about her escape option being shut down than about Mirage's brother she had never met. "Just be glad he made it out alive that night. Don't think anybot else did."

"Yeah," Mirage's vocaliser chuckle turned into a sigh. "He's a chatterbox, but I don't know what I'd do without him."

Instantly, Arcee let out a laugh. "You're one to talk, mister conversationalist."

Mirage's delightful laughter was music to her audio receptors. "You think so? Maybe you can teach me the virtue of silence next time we hook up, huh?"

"I don't think that can be done," Arcee replied sarcastically. "All the best with your brother, Mirage. But save some time for me in the future, huh? Looks like my pairing off is in limbo what with the whole explosion."

"Lots of extra time for us to have some fun, yeah?" Mirage flirted shamelessly. "Can do, Arcee. I gotta vanish, he's not doing too well lately."

Arcee let herself sink into her seat. Conceding, she nodded, "That's fine, see you later."

So ditching work to spend some time with her beau wasn't going to be an option. But just looking at that pile of datascrolls made Arcee want to power down out of boredom. She paused for a moment, then looked around herself at the massive library.

Starscream didn't say she had to do the work _right now_ , did he? A smirk creeped onto her faceplate. Maybe he didn't even give her all the datascrolls she needed. Maybe, Arcee thought, she needed to find some more datascrolls before she could begin working, explore the library a little and stretch her pedes. Maybe she'd even return before Starscream came back to check on her progress.

With one last three-sixty search for a hiding Starscream waiting to rail at her for abandoning his work, Arcee slipped out of her seat and dashed down one of the halls. She hesitated just a moment to ensure that she had not been seen. Nobot mulling around the study area even noticed her escape. Successful, she flashed a winning smirk.

This is what Arcee craved. To be able to be free to do what she wanted when she wanted. Everything in her life was completely controlled by some other bot. Do this, do that, pair with this mech, adopt this sparkling, stay in a dusty old library and study... Arcee could read about all these alien planets until her optics shut down, but she would never be out there among them experiencing everything she read about it if all she did was continue to obey the two bots that, the moment she transformed from a newspark into an adult, told her she was their heir and had to do what they wanted for their gain. Arcee would never live her own life. And that's all she wanted. The more they constrained her, the more her drive for the unknown burned inside her.

One day Arcee would take that leap. But when and where it would take her, well, she would never be able to fathom in her current timeline, walking down the Iacon hall of records’ rows of endless datascrolls.

As Arcee passed an archivist clerk station, she caught the rumblings of a meaningless conversation between two mech clerks.

"She hasn't been answering me since the party..." one mourned sullenly. "I think something's wrong, it's like she's been avoiding me..."

"Meh, femmes," came the indifferent voice of the other. "As mysterious as Solus Prime herself..."

Arcee rolled her optics and wandered down another aisle leaving the two clerks behind. Why was there such a pressure for femmes?. They were a low percentage of the population, and whether or not they originated from Solus Prime, she had no idea. All Arcee knew was that she was becoming increasingly exasperated by having her whole life planned out simply because her sires had sparked a femme. If she had been a mech, would they retain such a hold on her? Well, maybe they would, as she thought about the unfortunate mech who was also being forced to pair with her.

None of this high caste stuff seemed to be working for anybody. Even her own sires. But Arcee didn't like to think about that. As much as she yearned to be her own bot, she still recognised a... _connection_ between them and her. Although she wasn't sure what to call it. Whatever it was, a loyalty of some sort, and despite Arcee's unhappiness, it made her uncomfortable to hear her sires fight all the time.

Enrapt in her thoughts, she lost all sense of direction, only realising it once she had wandered deep into the ancient datascroll sector of the hall of records. There were hardly any bots here and even the lighting seemed dimmer than the rest of the library. Feeling out of place and slightly out of bounds, Arcee began to backtrack her steps.

Meandering through the tall rows of shelved datascrolls of old, Arcee was about to leave the sector when she thought she heard the sound of... distant crying? Capturing her curiosity, Arcee took a left and followed the sound down more maze-like rows of shelves until... She peeked around the corner and heard the soft voice of a familiar bot...

"Calm yourself, speak clearly. This is a blessing..."

Optics wide, Arcee realised she had stumbled upon _Alpha Trion_.

Arcee had caught glimpses of the master archivist of the Iacon Hall of Records around the library, but she had never spoken to him. Occasionally, she would hear him talk in that low, tranquil vocaliser of his, but other than that, Arcee never had any interactions with this magnificent bot. One of the original thirteen primes, why would somebot as important as he ever have need to speak with a bot like Arcee?

But it wasn't Alpha Trion who had been sobbing, it was the bot standing before him that he now addressed. He placed a delicate and reassuring servo on the shoulder plating of a smaller but strongly built femme.

Arcee had seen this femme before. Arcee recognised her as the bot she had met in the garden at the Waves estate party. But the femme had talked so much that Arcee could not recall a name. But what really caught Arcee's attention was her behaviour. Like when Arcee had met her at the party, the femme was speaking animatedly and persistently  although this time, through her emotional sobs. Alpha Trion nodded, listening to her as she became more upset the more she talked.

"I don't know what to do anymore," Arcee heard the femme's wails. "This changes everything, I didn't mean for this to happen..."

Arcee took a step away, again, she didn't want to eavesdrop. Their conversation was clearly personal. What a contrast it was to see this bot so visibly upset, compared to how elated and in love she appeared at the party.

Grimacing to herself, Arcee refused to look behind herself as she heard the trailing sobs, "What do I do now... I can't tell him..." was the last she heard before Arcee exited the ancient scroll sector.

Once back to the familiar topics labelling the shelved data, Arcee strolled down each row in an attempt to find her way closer to the main hall.

"... Arcee..."

Arcee's audio's perked at the sound of her name. She paused, straining to hear where the source of the conversation was originating.

"She's completely inept at everything I give her! Her notes are barely legible, she can't keep a train of thought, she jumps topics like a-"

Placing her servos on the rows of slotted datapads on the shelves, Arcee leaned against them and peeked through the gaps. Of course, who else would be talking about her at the library but Starscream.

"Starscream... what's really bothering you?" Arcee leaned to the left to see Skyfire, nearly twice Starscream's height, standing in front of him as the two chatted privately in a small study enclave.

Starscream held a modest stack of datascrolls in the crook of his arm. No doubt more work he had scrounged up for her. "We never should have hired an intern,” he prattled on, ignoring Skyfire’s concern. “She slows down our progress and hinders any further research-"

“Starscream.” Skyfire repeated. Although his tone was firm, it was not stern.

Starscream looked away and narrowed his brows. Through a tight mouthplate, he said, "I wonder if we should abandon our research on locating Earth."

_Earth!_

So that’s what all this research was for!? Arcee shuttered her optics in surprise and contemplated this revelation. No wonder the research was never enough, no wonder she was receiving older, dustier and more archaic scrolls to shift through with ancient dialogue so technical and stuffy she could barely accept that it was the same language! Suddenly it all made sense and yet…

Earth didn’t exist.

Earth was nothing more than a myth, a fictitious planet supposedly located millions upon billions of lightyears away from Cybertron. Of course there were legends of Cybertronians visiting this planet, ancient Cybertronians that had probably told tall tales to impress one another.

No self-respecting scholar would ever seriously consider any proposal that Earth was real. Yet these two seekers clearly believed it existed and were attempting to locate it.

If only Arcee’s sires knew what she was doing with her study time! They would have been outraged that her ‘education’ was nothing more than the study of Cybertronian fairy tales.

“What makes you feel that way?” Skyfire’s soft, low voice trailed through the datascrolls, stealing Arcee’s attention again. She cringed when Skyfire reached out and gently stroked Starscream’s wing.

Starscream, too, fluttered his wings, seemingly in agitation. “Perhaps…” he began, not looking Skyfire in the optics, “There’s more worthwhile pursuits here on Cybertron.”

Skyfire looked taken aback. “Such as?” he asked. Was there a hint of hopefulness in his vocaliser?

But Starscream shook his helm, causing Skyfire to tilt his in confusion. “Not what you think,” and Skyfire retracted his touch warily. “There’s been too much talk lately on Cybertron about change to ignore it.”

Skyfire laughed a quiet chuckle. “Since when are you so invested in revolution?"

"I didn't say anything about revolution!" Starscream snapped now looking flustered. "Forget it, if you're just going to exaggerate-"

"I only jest," Skyfire sighed sullenly. "I was actually hoping you were, well, maybe referring to _other_ pursuits on Cybertron."

Starscream raised a brow ridge. "Such as?"

Skyfire again reached for Starscream's wing. "Such as... pursuits on Cybertron... that involve... just the two of us."

Starscream regarded Skyfire cautiously from the corner of his optics. They held each other's gaze for some time, until finally Starscream looked away again. "Don't be absurd, there's far too much to be done to think of abandoning any pursuit for such friv-" but he cut himself off abruptly. He made a sound as if he was going to speak again, but he paused, still unwilling to look directly at the bot before him. Instead, he said, "We're too busy for any distractions."

The silence between them said everything.

"You've been keeping your thoughts from me a lot lately," Skyfire spoke bluntly. The wings on his back slightly drooped. "What do you think of recent chatter on Cybertron then?

This time Starscream looked him directly in the optics. "I think it could benefit us."

"And so what will you do?" Skyfire questioned patiently.

Starscream shut his mouth. Although he frowned, he did not appear angry with his partner. Abruptly he waved his free servo lazily. "Nothing," he replied crassly. "Like I said, it's only talk. Now come, let's gather some more material for our glorified secretary while she's still on the clock." He hastened to push past Skyfire and out of the enclave.

But Skyfire called out gently, "Starscream."

Starscream hesitated and gave him a dubious glance. "What?"

"Be patient with her, won't you?" Skyfire asked.

"Tch," Starscream retorted, making a series of indiscernible noises. "What do you care about some haughty high caste femme-bot?"

But a playful smile found its way to Skyfire's faceplate. "It's _you_ I care about, lovely." Almost sarcastically, he added, "It'd be nice if she could at least understand what I see in you."

Starscream's wings again flitted as he looked left and right appearing very abashed. A blue tinge rose to his faceplate and he nearly dropped the datascrolls in his servos as he fidgeted while trying to form a response.

Skyfire moved closer and rested both of his massive servos on either of Starscream's arms. "And everything I am looking for is in you."

This was becoming far too personal for Arcee's tastes. Faceplate feeling tinged from embarrassment, Arcee began to back up. But she wasn't able to leave in time before she saw the two of them... embrace in a _kiss._

 _GROSS!_ That was enough! Arcee was _out_ of there!

Arcee knew at this point that these two seekers were involved with one another, but what Skyfire saw in a bot like Starscream, Arcee had no clue. Grumpy, snippy and rude, Starscream never had a nice thing to say about her no matter how hard she worked. He was the type of bot she would have considered to be born alone and die alone. Just thinking about what she had just witnessed gave her shivers along her frame. How could such a sweet bot like Skyfire be attracted to such a dour bot! Arcee didn't need to see any of that. Nasty!

Scooting down the aisles in hopes to leave Starscream and Skyfire far behind her, Arcee stumbled across a yet another seeker in an open study area much like the one she worked at. They were a rare sight at the library as most of their kind did not concern themselves with academic pursuits, as far as Arcee understood.

At one of the tables sat a bright red seeker looking half powered down while the bot next to him seemed immersed in the bulk of their work looking increasingly overwhelmed.

Arcee snorted a laugh, was it a seeker thing to pass off their work onto others? she wondered. She watched as the bot, frustrated and fretful, stood up and stalked out of the study area towards her. Realising he was heading straight for her while looking down at his pedes, she hastened to dart out of his way.

Not anticipating the cart of datapads behind her blocking her escape, she crashed into the cart and with nowhere to go, the unknowing bot collided directly into her! Taller than she, the impact sent her crashing to the ground, helm smacking on the cart behind her.

"OH, sorry!!" he yelped. He grabbed the shelf in an attempt to balance himself so he wouldn’t topple onto her. Realising he had knocked somebot completely off her pedes, he sprang into an anxious babble. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to! A-are you alright?" He bent over her and extended a servo in a gesture to help her to her pedes. Arcee waved him off, pushing herself back up on her own.

"I'm alright," she assured. Her helm hardly hurt. "You just took me by surprise." He was looking at her with an intently worried expression. "I'm _fine_ ," she repeated. Hoping to quell his concern so she could be on her way, Arcee attempted a joke. "Did you need a break from your friend's crazy workaholic tendencies?" and Arcee jabbed a digit at the red seeker now lazily scanning through a datapad.

"Oh, uh, him? Oh, he's okay," the bot rushed to the seeker’s defense. Still sounded ruffled, he added, "He's just stressed from, uh… Well, we're medical students studying for an upcoming exam. He's stressed about passing. I guess we both are."

Arcee looked at the red seeker critically. He yawned and leaned back in his seat. "If you don't mind my saying,” she spoke harshly, “But you look a lot more stressed than him.”

Was it just her or was the bot blushing when he looked back at the lazy seeker? "I don't mind," he said quietly. "He appreciates all I do for him."

But the red seeker looked far from appreciative, at least from Arcee’s point of  view. So she frowned and shrugged. "If you say so. Good luck with your exams." She turned to leave.

"Thanks," the flustered bot smiled shyly and Arcee felt truly sorry that this bot was being taken advantage of so blatantly by his study partner. "You too! Oh!" he realised his blunder and chuckled nervously, "I mean, uh, good luck with whatever you're doing here!"

Amused, Arcee waved a good-bye to the orange and white bot whom she heard crash into the cart behind her. What a character, she thought.

But her situation was entirely different. Arcee was adamant Starscream was taking advantage of her intern role but at least Arcee was aware of it. Although it wasn’t like she could do anything about it. Not unless she up and quit.

Every day as Arcee would work, swiping through the information in the scrolls and recording data, day after day, she would repeatedly tell herself some other study out there would have been a better decision. Yet, at the same time, Arcee would find herself lost in the words on the screens written about these far away planets. It really was the closest Arcee could come to travelling, running away from this lifestyle she was born into.

And searching for the legendary and mythic planet Earth? As processor-fried as it sounded, it intrigued Arcee. What would such an alien planet look like? What would await her there if she travelled through space to find it? _If_ such a planet even existed. But even being out there, searching for something that probably didn’t even exist, well, that was better than being here. She halted and lingered by the stairway ramp to the third story of the library.

Looking down at the bots below, for once, she felt far removed from her present self. Like she didn’t belong to their everyday lives or the society they had built around themselves. But where Arcee fit in, she wasn’t sure. Even still, she could almost hear planet Earth calling her name…

“Arcee?”

An engulfing shadow shrouded her and she jolted from surprise. Whipping around and feeling caught blue-servoed, she craned her pipes up to look at the large bot standing before her.

"Skyfire!" Arcee reactively placed a servo to her chassis. "You startled me!"

An amused smile played on the edges of his mouthplate. “Still searching for some reference materials?” he pried. “I believe the planetary studies documents are on the second floor.”

Although slightly embarrassed at having been caught, she felt far more at ease around Skyfire and therefore felt no compulsion to lie.

“Sorry,” she said, leaning on the banister behind her, “I needed a mental break before delving into the wild world of text that’s so ancient I can hardly decipher it. I think Starscream gave me enough work to camp here for orns.”

Skyfire grimaced politely. “You're not expected to do everything all at once. There's no need to stay late, you have no deadlines." He paused a moment when her expression did not change. "I will speak with Starscream again about your workload."

But Arcee shrugged, "I don't mind staying late. I shouldn't complain. Learning about what's out there beyond Cybertron is incentive enough to stay late if it means not returning home."

Skyfire nodded and he, too, stepped up to the railing and looked down at the library's guests and archivists below. "If only every other bot would consider the possibilities that lay beyond Cybertron. There's far more out there than the society we have built around ourselves. Already, I can feel the beginnings of our structure beginning to topple."

Gazing up at him curiously, her optics followed to where he gestured, a series of giant screens hanging on the walls. On them was live news report at the scene of the recently destroyed Sparkling Distribution Centre.

"... Rescue Teams are still continuing to battle the multiple blazes at the site of the former Waves Sparkling Distribution Centre Number 38!" The journalist on the scene spoke into the camera. He turned to face a Fire Combatant who was still occupied furiously shouting out orders to his team. "Red Alert here with Fire Captain Heatwave! Heatwave, how many fires do you estimate are still burning in the wreckage?"

The giant shiny red and chrome bot flashed a frustrated look to the camera, "Too many to count," he growled. "We've got Rescue Teams maintaining each blaze to help contain them, they're not a danger to the public."

"When do you think the construction crews can begin cleaning up-"

"When we're done!" the fire captain snapped, beginning to move away from the camera.

But the journalist persisted, "Heatwave, Heatwave! Have you found any survivors in the wreckage? Any workers or sparklings-"

Heatwave shot one last warning look to the camera. "No! And can't you see I'm busy!? There have been no survivors beyond the initial few that escaped at the time of the explos-"

But suddenly the video feed cut away and a different bot sat at a desk with a flagging headline scrolling across the bottom saying 'HEADLINE NEWS!' repeatedly.

Both Arcee and Skyfire stared at the screen, each gasping as they were both absolutely taken aback by the headline report:

"This just in!" An image of Shockwave appeared on the screen. "Shockwave's verdict has been decided after an orn since the explosion of Sparkling Distribution Centre Number 38. The council has sentenced Shockwave _to death_ for the massacre of the thousands of lives consisting of the Centre's workers and uncoded sparklings."

"He didn't do it!"

Arcee jumped when she heard a new voice next to her speak.

It was the femme who had been sobbing before Alpha Trion, the femme Arcee had met at the Waves Estate party whose name she couldn't recall.

"He didn't blow up his own centre and neither did Soundwave!" she repeated insistently. She pushed herself between Arcee and Skyfire and leaned against the railing and gestured at the screen. "He's completely innocent, it's all a set-up!"

Bemused, Skyfire exchanged a look with Arcee but said good-naturedly, "What a bold opinion. What makes you say that?"

"Because I know," was her insufficient reply although she sounded as if it was obvious proof. Then she turned to look down at Arcee squarely in the optic. Her bright, round blue optics held hers with an unnerving intensity. "Do _you_ think they did it?"

"I.... uh..." Arcee stumbled. The answer should have been 'yes, I do', that's what the council had decided and they're the ones that looked over all the evidence, right? But Arcee realised saying 'yes' was somehow lost in her vocaliser.

She didn't really know Shockwave or Soundwave. She had met Shockwave on a few occasions, usually with her sires on either side of her while they discussed her future. The only time he had really spoken with her directly had been at the party when the explosion had taken place. Maybe he didn't do it after all, Shockwave sure seemed surprised when the news of the blast displayed on the screens in the centre of his party surrounded by his hundreds of guests.

And Soundwave? Arcee had only met the silent courtesan once, also at the party. She recalled him peacefully making his way through Shockwave's garden, far out of view of the raucous party-goers, with his adopted mini-cons all following at his pedes. No, how could such a benign bot be responsible for the murder of thousands of sparklings?

"Soundwave's sentence to the gladiator ring seems to remain intact, no news on if this verdict will change..." she heard the newscaster continue to report.

"Somebot should do something!" the femme insisted vindictively. She faced Arcee again and leaned into her, "Don't let them tell you how to think!" and without hesitation, she dashed down the steps and further into the depths of the library.

Arcee stared, dumbfounded, in her direction.

"If only there were more bots like her running around," Skyfire commented, breaking the silence.

She frowned, looking up at him. "What do you mean?" she attempted a laugh. "Fanatically running around screaming about conspiracies?"

"No," Skyfire said, now overlooking the library below again. Shocked whispers could be heard coming from below as the library's guests began to gossip about what they had just seen on the screens. "But maybe a few more bots questioning what we're being told might not be so bad?" The whispers below slowly faded and everybot below began to return to what they had been doing before the news had interrupted their daily lives.

"You can take your time before returning to our studies, Arcee," Skyfire said as he began to walk away. "It's not like we'll be visiting any of the planets we study anytime soon."

"Skyfire," she called after him, "Do _you_ think Shockwave is innocent?"

Skyfire halted and turned. "What I think is neither here nor there, is it? It's what the council believes is best."

But Arcee pondered this for a moment. "And what if the council is wrong?"

To her surprise, Skyfire smiled and shrugged, something she never had really seen him do before. "Well," he said, continuing his leave, "Then you're acute as always, Arcee."

And he left her to consider everything she had seen and heard that day at the Iacon Hall of Records.


	11. Rebuilt |&| Who's That Girl?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcee and Knock Out are in possession of what Arcee was positive didn't exist. But does that mean all will go accordingly? Will it even work? It may well be beyond both their capabilities...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to take the time to thank every one of you who reads my story. It really means a lot to me, especially those that reach out by leaving me kudos, or even further, a comment. I can't express how much they mean to me and drive me to continue this story. I'm sorry it's been taking me long to get out chapters, but I hope you will stick with it to the end (yes, it has an end, it's all plotted out). Sincerely, thank-you.

_BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!_

Shot after shot, Arcee focused her twin guns on Soundwave as he leapt into the air. Each shot just barely missing the enemy Decepticon by a sliver. Soundwave whipped around with speed and precision, firing both cables at her in such a flurry that Arcee was sent flying, smashing into Skyfire next to her who stumbled backwards from impact.

Growling out loud, Arcee rebounded faster than anybot could shutter. Immediately, she pushed off of Skyfire and took aim for Soundwave. Glancing at her from over his shoulder, Soundwave again launched his attack cables in an attempt to strike her, but Arcee dodged these expertly and fired two more blasts, both hitting the empty spot where he had just been as he ran towards the bridge’s doors. 

With a frustrated snarl, Arcee chased after Soundwave who in one swift move, transformed into his alt mode. She had nearly been upon him when his turbos fired up and blasted her in the faceplate, causing her to cry out in pain and momentarily blind her.

“What’s going on!” she caught the voices of both Jack and Raf shouting over the video conference. “Was that So-”

“Arcee- are you alright!?” She could hear the lumbering sounds of Skyfire’s massive pedes approaching her. 

But she didn’t have a moment to spare. Flipping off the ground in a somersault, Arcee swiftly transformed into her motorcycle alt mode and sped through the bridge’s doors. 

She could just barely keep Soundwave within her sights. He was well out of her range, but despite knowing this, Arcee continued a ruthless onslaught of blasts in his direction. All of them falling short of impacting the fleeing Decepticon.

Arcee pinned her speedometer and her engine screamed, deafening her audio sensors and booming within her processor. But even with the loud sound and anger exploding inside her, reason was still able to find its way in and Arcee knew she was not going to catch up with an alt mode as swift as Soundwave's. Still, she was relentless in her chase. Then, before she knew it, the exit was in view and the bright light of the world outside the _Nemesis_ was right in front of them.

And in a burst, Soundwave vanished into the light. 

“ARGH!” Arcee skidded to a halt along the rampart. Servos in fists, Arcee stamped her pedes in frustration as she watched Soundwave fly up, up, up and off into the distance. 

There would be no chasing after him now. Now not only Starscream and Megatron were still out there, but Soundwave too. So the Autobots had won the war, huh? she asked herself bitterly. What sort of win is it when the three highest ranking Decepticons were still at large out there? She exuded a long, strained groan. Airachnid included. But speaking of Decepticons…

She heard loud clanging on the ramp. Skyfire had finally caught up with her.

“Where’s Knock Out?” Arcee questioned. 

Skyfire looked about himself, confused. “I’m not entirely sure. I spoke with some humans on the screens and ensured them of your safety. I didn’t really pay attention after that, I came to see if you needed any help.”

Arcee shook her helm, still feeling torn that she had not caught Soundwave. “No, it’s too late,” she bit her lower mouthplate. “He’s gone now.” Again, she looked to the direction Soundwave had flown off in. He was no longer within sight. “I just… _augh!_ I can’t believe I let this happen!” and she kicked at the ground again. She felt the intense urge to just keep blasting into the ground, but she transformed her guns back into her servos to avoid such an outburst. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help. I don't have any weapons-” Skyfire began.

But Arcee cut him off. “No need. I just… I didn’t know. It all happened too fast.” Narrowing her optics, again in the direction of Soundwave, she gritted her dentae. How could she have been so careless! Caught in her fury, she didn’t realise Skyfire was silently staring at her.

“What?” she asked abruptly, struggling to keep her frustration out of her vocaliser.

Skyfire shook his helm. “Nothing,” he said. Then, after he took a moment’s pause to think, he added, “Seeing you again, but now, in your new element… it’s different. You’re the same, but… you’ve grown.”

Arcee relaxed herself, despite feeling somewhat confused by this statement. “Grown?” she repeated.

“I don’t mean by maturity,” Skyfire amended. “You’re still the bot from the library, but I can also see how you’ve grown with the war you’ve experienced for millions of years.”

Arcee looked down, her optics sliding towards the distant city of the Iacon skyline. Somehow, this was reminding her of her last talk with Optimus. 

“Is that bad?” she inquired.

“No,” Skyfire said. “Just different, for me.” But he lost her interest when he said, “I wonder how much Starscream has changed too.” Skyfire too, looked towards the Iacon skyline. “Are there any bots living there now?”

“Hm? No.” Arcee folded her arms against herself. “It’s just us- I mean, Myself and Optimus’ team. There’s six of us… plus Knock Out. We sent out the beacon to other Autobots, but we’ve heard almost nothing in response. Maybe they’re on their way, we’ll see. For now,” she looked back up at Skyfire, “we’re just waiting.”

“My whole life feels like it has been nothing but waiting,” Skyfire replied.

“You know,” Arcee said with an added sigh, “I know you’ve been stuck in the Shadowzone all these years, and I’ve been out here living the war. But I feel the same.”

“Perhaps we both envy each other,” Skyfire began to walk back into the _Nemesis_. Giving the horizon one last glance, Arcee followed inside. “So much has changed, and we both have adjusting to do, it seems like.”

Perhaps she did, she thought warily. She had been so excited to see a familiar face- one from before the war- that she had forgotten all about her internal struggle to find happiness without slaying Airachnid. Now, back at the _Nemesis_ , it was all at the forefront of Arcee’s processor again. 

What did Skyfire really see when he looked at her? Noticeably different, chasing after Decepticons with lightning speed and shooting at them all the way. It must have taken him by surprise. 

“Shall we find Knock Out?” Skyfire suggested, interrupting her thoughts. “He mentioned that I could have Starscream’s medical file. I need to see it before I leave.”

“Leave?” Arcee was taken aback. “You’re leaving so soon?” She began to lead him towards the medbay, surely that’s where Knock Out was most likely.

Skyfire nodded, following her lead. “If you could bridge me back to Earth, I would be grateful.”

“To find Starscream?” Arcee asked. Nope, she couldn’t interject any false cheer into her vocaliser when speaking of Starscream. Even if it was for Skyfire.

“Yes,” he affirmed, “As you can imagine, I have a lot to discuss with my sparkmate.”

“If you think I’ve changed during the war,” Arcee began, “then, sorry, but you’re going to be in for a surprise when you see Starscream.”

“I have a general idea,” he said, looking away. “He’s prone to monologuing when alone on the _Harbinger_.”

Arcee snorted something like a laugh. “I can imagine. You know… Skyfire, however much he has changed, we both kept our promises to you.” They both halted. “Believe me, there were plenty of opportunities for the both of us.”

He stared down at her over his own frame silently waiting for her to continue.

“I know we chose sides,” she said insistently, “but every time I had his helm within the crosshairs of my guns, I never pulled the trigger. For you.” She locked optics with Skyfire. “I should have every reason to want him dead. He killed my… my _conjux endura_ and when I found out, well I lost it. I wanted to blast him and have him feel what I felt while he died slowly. But I didn’t do it.”

A horrific expression crossed Skyfire’s faceplate. “I didn’t kn-”

“I don’t think he did either,” Arcee interrupted. Emotion swelling inside her unexpectedly, she balled her servos into fists. Fiercely, she fought to keep herself together despite feeling the struts in her legs wanting to buckle. 

“When he killed Cliffjumper, I don’t see how he could have known what Cliff meant to me. I’m sorry, but I don’t trust Starscream. Even with you between us,” she stared down at the blank floor. “I wouldn’t trust him with my life. But… when he found out what Cliffjumper was to me, after he killed him, well Starscream had a clear opportunity to kill me too. I was caught in an insecticon webbing, hanging upside down. None of my allies were around to save me.” Now she met his gaze, “Skyfire, he could have killed me right then and there. He _should_ have. But he didn’t. Starscream didn’t release me from the webbing, but he cut me down from being hung upside down and made it perfectly clear that he was sparing my life.” No, she wouldn’t let the lubricant in the corners of her optics swell when she thought of Cliffjumper. “I don’t know if that means anything to you, about Starscream or how he’s changed or any of that, but I thought you should know. We may have chosen opposite sides, but both kept our promises to you not to kill each other.”

Skyfire was silent.

“Anyway,” Arcee said, now walking again. “Let’s see if Knock Out is where I think he is.”

“I’m sorry Starscream killed Cliffjumper,” Skyfire spoke softly, trailing after her.

“Me too,” Arcee said, hiding the few tears that slid down her faceplate.

Finding their way to the medbay, the doors welcomed the two bots inside where Knock Out was indeed hiding. He sat in front of a computer station scrolling through information on the screen, a datapad in front of him and a canister of hi-grade energon in servo. The legendary sparkchamber laid on a table close-by.

“So this is where you ran off to,” Arcee announced her presence sarcastically by addressing Knock Out’s quick disappearance as soon as Soundwave had appeared. “Could have really used your fire power back there against Soundwave.”

Knock Out, in mid swig of the hi-grade, shot her a ridiculing look over his shoulder plating. “Arcee, you know I don’t have ranged weapons.” He returned to the information on the computer screen.

“Or maybe you didn’t want Soundwave to see you as an Autobot,” Arcee countered dryly.

“Have you come to help or are you just going to stand there admiring me?” Knock Out fired back, not even looking at her this time.

“Actually,” Skyfire spoke up, interrupting the two bickering, “I’ve come for Starscream’s medical reports.”

Knock Out stopped scrolling and drinking at the same time. “Ah,” he said, coughing on some of the hi-grade, “Yes, that.” He pulled out a drawer on the computer stand and withdrew an empty datapad. “I’ll put the report on this for you,” he explained and began to locate the files on the computer.

“Thank-you,” Skyfire said. He walked past Arcee and stood next to Knock Out, obviously trying to read over his shoulder.

Clearly irritated by his behaviour, Knock Out looked up at Skyfire next to him. “You’re not really a seeker though, are you?” he commented, his optics sweeping Skyfire up and down curiously.

“Indeed, I’m not,” Skyfire replied. “I’m a shuttle, despite most bots categorising me in the seeker family.” She noticed Skyfire, too, was studying Knock Out’s frame build. Intelligent as he was, it probably didn’t take him long to see Knock Out’s origins. “But I don’t find being labeled a seeker to be an insult, so I don’t bother correcting.”

Knock Out said nothing to that. He unplugged the datapad and handed it to Skyfire. 

“There you go,” he said, turning around on his swivel seat and leaned against the computer desk behind him. “One Starscream Medical Report for your discretion along with all the… uh… down and dirty details,” he added that last part a little quieter. 

Skyfire looked down at the report and nodded slowly. “I appreciate this, it will help prepare me for when I find him.”

Knock Out shrugged before returning to his previous task. 

“Arcee,” Skyfire called to her, “Will you help me with the spacebridge?”

“You sure you don’t want to stay longer? You could meet the rest of Team Prime,” she suggested. She caught Knock Out glancing out of the corner of his optics.

“No,” Skyfire declined politely, heading towards the door. “As I said, I’ve been waiting far too long already. I’m sure you understand.” He gave a wave to Knock Out, “It was nice meeting you.”

Knock Out did not respond. The glare of the computer screen reflected off his completely engrossed expression.

“I expect he’s eager to put his friend back together,” Skyfire mused to Arcee as the two left the medbay. “Exciting, isn’t it?”

Arcee just nodded. 

“I’m sorry, Arcee.”

Confused, Arcee abruptly stopped walking. “For what?” she asked Skyfire.

He let out a light sigh. “It must be hard for you, isn’t it? Seeing your friends reunite with those they care about. But your conjux…”

They never actually called themselves conjux endura. But Arcee knew in her spark that’s who Cliffjumper had been to her. There was no other word to describe how close they had been. Surely, they would have reached that title if Cliffjumper had lived.

“Dead bots don’t come back,” she said simply. “I’ve lived through this war long enough to know that.”

Yet Skyfire had come back, she thought as they continued towards the _Nemesis’_ bridge. He hadn’t been dead, not technically, but he had _supposedly_ been dead. Lucky for Starscream.

“So where would you like me to drop you off?” Arcee asked as they approached the control panel to the spacebridge. 

“Try these,” Skyfire leaned over and typed in coordinates. “They’re to the real _Harbinger_. Seems like a good place to start if it was his salvation last time. Might be again this time.”

Arcee nodded, setting up the spacebridge as Skyfire brought over his crate he had left in the room when Soundwave had fled. He slipped the medical report into the crate and strapped it to his back.

“By the way, sorry I keep calling you a seeker,” Arcee said, servo on the control panel. “and old assuming habit, I guess.”

But Skyfire smiled, “As I said, it’s no insult to me. Quite the compliment instead. I find them to be beautiful creatures.”

Arcee couldn’t retain the wince. “Well, I hope you still feel that way when you meet up with Starscream.”

“I wouldn’t be his sparkmate if I didn’t already know,” he responded.

The green light of the spacebridge powered on. Arcee couldn’t believe she had just found a friend she had thought dead for millions of years, only to find him, and now part with him once more.

“You know,” Arcee said, halting Skyfire before he approached the bridge. “You’re welcome back any time. Team Prime could always use your brilliance.”

Skyfire dipped his helm politely. “Something I would consider, if I knew the offer extended to the other half of my spark.”

“I can’t,” Arcee stated. “I don’t know how much you gleamed of him from when you were on the _Harbinger_ , but Starscream is currently Most Wanted Number Two.”

“Arcee,” and to her surprise, he strode towards her. “I know you’re still hurting, but thank-you. Thank-you for not killing Starscream when you had the chance. Even when you still thought me dead. If I finally left the Shadowzone and Starscream were dead… well I would rather return to the Shadowzone.”

“If it weren’t for you, he’d be a dead bot,” Arcee strained to keep the bitterness from her vocaliser. “Just keep him away from me, huh? Can’t say I’ll always be so well restrained.”

“If there’s anything I can do you in return,” Skyfire said, holding her gaze, “I will do my best to fulfill any request.”

Arcee nodded. “I’ll miss you,” she said, watching him stride towards the bridge’s portal. “You can always comm-link me.”

“You know, Arcee,” Skyfire halted one last time in front of the portal. “Dead bots never truly leave us.”

“No,” Arcee said, waving a final goodbye. “I guess they don’t.”

And she watched Skyfire walk through the green portal, truly saddened to see such a good bot leave. Only once the portal was closed and Arcee was left alone in the _Nemesis’_ bridge did Arcee finally say,

“At least, all but Cliffjumper.”

She left the room, once again swallowed up by the massive halls of the _Nemesis_ as she made her way back to the medbay. 

Skyfire and Breakdown were proof of that were they not?

Speaking of Breakdown, Arcee had been so overwhelmed by the return of Skyfire, that she still had not truly comprehended the notion that Knock Out had actually found Breakdown’s spark.

Was Arcee walking through a dream? she thought. She wasn’t sure what she expected after Optimus Prime left them, but the few days after, she certainly wasn’t expecting one shocking blow after another. 

The doors of the medbay opened and Arcee jolted in shock. Speaking of shock!

There, in the centre of the medbay, strapped down to the examination table, was Breakdown.

At least, his lifeless, husk of a frame was. Arcee quickly noted the sparkchamber still on the nearby table.

“W-where did you get that?” Arcee asked, slowly walking towards the dead frame.

Knock Out who was inspecting the inside of Breakdown’s open chassis looked up at her. “The body?” Knock Out asked ever so nonchalantly. 

He wore a pair of medical spectacles. Tinted blue, she could see information scrolling on the screens as he reached inside the open chassis. Arcee cringed at the morbid display.

“The morgue, of course,” Knock Out replied off the cuff. “Where do you think we store all the dead bots you Autobots slay?”

“I guess,” Arcee said hesitantly, warily observing the very dead Breakdown. “I didn’t know Decepticons to reclaim dead vehicons.”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to assume?” he said with a smirk, again leaning into the frame and reaching inside. Somehow, Arcee wondered if that dig was more than intentional. “Look at this!” 

Arcee pretended to crane her pipes to look but retained her respectful, non-detailed view, distance of the inside of Breakdown.

“Those disgusting fleshlings completely massacred the inside chassis!” he exclaimed. He picked up a datapad and recorded some notes.

“What do you mean?” Arcee asked, walking over to a table on the other side of Breakdown and leaned against it.

“I mean when M.E.C.H. butchered Breakdown so they could implant Silas. I’m going to have to remove this poorly conceived marionette seat and snip all the wires leading to his spinal cords and at the base of his neural net.” He shook his helm in repulsion. “It’s going to take me a good few hours to prep his frame before I can even think about reattaching the chamber…” Was Arcee delusional? Or did she hear some genuine distress creep into Knock Out’s vocaliser. “Look at this… come, look!”

Arcee hesitated before taking a few closer steps towards Breakdown. Standing on one of the elevated platforms, Arcee could now see what Knock Out was speaking about. 

Right where a sparkchamber should be, a obviously human-made mechanism was installed. It was just the right size for a human pilot. But now, no longer without a host, lose cords hung, Breakdown’s frame now lifeless once again and no longer playing puppet to some twisted human. As her optics wandered, she noticed something on the inside doors of Breakdown's chassis. It was faint, but she distinctly saw an engraved infinity symbol- the symbol for love on Cybertron, a simplistic depiction of two sparks together forever- with Knock Out's initials in one loop, and Breakdown's in the other.

“What did you do to Silas?” Arcee’s vocaliser was a whisper.

Knock Out was silent. “I didn’t get to kill him."

When she looked up at him she found the former Decepticon medic to be in something close to a trance. But when she followed his line of sight, he wasn’t looking at the mess inside Breakdown as Arcee had thought, not even the old engraving on Breakdown's inner chassis marking their attachment to one another. No, his optics were solely entranced on Breakdown’s faceplate. 

“I should have when I had the chance,” he said, his own vocaliser hushed. “But Airachnid killed him.”

Airachnid again. Of course. Arcee then asked him, “What did you do with the body?”

A snarl curled across Knock Out’s mouthplate. “Burned it.” Arcee nodded slowly, but was surprised when he continued, “But not before I made some modifications,” he sneered and she noticed his digits flex. 

He didn’t need to explain any further. Arcee not only fully understood but was fully disturbed as well.

Knock Out pulled on the loose cables within Breakdown and let them drop, muttering something as he vented. He clawed at the edges where the human attachment was welded into Breakdown. 

“So once that thing’s out,” Arcee spoke up to interrupt the silence. “You can just plug the spark chamber in?” she stepped down off the stepping stool and back to her safe vantage point by the table.

“We’ll see…” Knock Out was now inspecting Breakdown’s pipes. “I mean, I might have to re-amputate the head to properly attach it. The humans did a very sloppy job with the soldering,” he mused aloud.

Arcee cringed. “Sorry, but did you say _amputate his head?_ ”

“Mm-hmm,” Knock Out replied, not looking up from his notes.

Repulsed, Arcee grappled for words. “Doesn’t that _bother you!?"_ ” 

His head shot up and he stared at her. It was almost like he was looking through her than at her. “What’s that?” he finally asked after a pause.

“Well,” she explained, “That’s your _sparkmate!_ Cutting his head off and opening him up...”

But still he stared at her as if haunted, “Not rea-” but he cut himself off and in an instant, he smiled in cruel amusement. “You’re not squeamish, are you??” 

Arcee felt her whole frame tense despite how much she willed herself not to show her displeasure. “I’m not at home in a medbay,” she clarified.

“Ha!” Knock Out let out a laugh and leapt off his platform, “But you’ve chopped off heads in battle before! I know, because I have to stash the stiffs!”

“That’s different,” Arcee pointed out as Knock Out began to move about the medbay. “You’re in battle and it’s either him or me, so of course it’s going to be him. It’s war, it’s not looking at body parts and slicing parts off and looking at them and…”

Knock Out thrust something into Arcee’s servos without her even realising it before it was too late. “Here, hold this,” he said.

“OH _Primus!_ ” Arcee wailed and shut her optics. It was round and just the right size for a decapitated head! “Knock Out!! You can’t just hand me-” she peeked open a single optic and looked down, attempting to blur her vision in case she witnessed Breakdown’s head in her trembling servos but it wasn’t a head it was… “A _bucket?_ ” she asked bluntly.

Knock Out raised a brow ridge, “In case you need to purge energon,” he smirked.

“Look,” Arcee said uneasily. She placed the bucket down and stepped back. “I don’t think I’m going to stick around for this, so if you need me, I'll be-"

"Wait!" Knock Out, whipped around from the monitor he had been looking at. Arcee was taken aback by his outcry. "Don't leave," he said, his gaze locking her in her spot from across the room.

"I really don't know anything about medical... stuff. I'm a warrior, not a surgeon," she explained. She could feel herself already being pulled to the doors. 

But Knock Out looked like he hadn't heard a word she had spoken. "You can't go," he said again, this time, with more thought. "I need an assistant."

"Then you might be better off asking some other bot..." Arcee began, but he shook his helm.

"Who would help me?" he sneered, "Nobot here! Arcee I need an assistant for this task."

Arcee bit her lower mouthplate and wondered if she should be so bold as to voice the thought in her processor. But she said it anyway, "Does it have something to do with that?" and she gestured to the half-full bottle of hi-grade energon by the computer.

"No," was his immediate response. She didn't believe him until he continued slowly, "I..." Knock Out said, not looking her in the optics. "I don't want to get carried away." He looked at her.

But Arcee didn't really understand and clearly he was expecting her to. "Carried away?" she asked.

Unexpectedly, frustration caught him and Knock Out abruptly tossed the datapad he was holding onto the table and began hooking cords to Breakdown. 

"Forget it," he grumbled.

"No, I'm not going to forget it," Arcee countered, approaching him. "Why do you need me to stay?"

He whipped around and looked down at her, seriously disconcerted. Finally, he said, "I get carried away operating, sometimes. Breakdown... used to help with that. It's nothing, just... dissecting... I want to stay on task. I need to. Forget it, two-wheeler." He turned his back to her.

She stole another look to the hi-grade bottle. She was starting to learn that Knock Out was a flat-out liar sometimes. "Tell you what, I'll stick around," Arcee said. "Just so long as I can do it from a distance. Dissecting is _not_ my thing."

A faint smile played on the edges of his mouthplate. "Then make yourself useful and look up Breakdown’s typical spark rhythm sample." and he shoved a datapad into her servos before bounding over to a rack of medical tools with sudden energy. 

The datapad he had given her had a list of names. Scrolling through them, Arcee realised it was not just the Decepticon’s names from everybot who had been on the _Nemesis_ , but all of Team Prime too. 

“Wh-” she was about to ask where he had gotten these files, until she realised Ratchet had transferred all of their medical files to Knock Out when he had ‘temporarily’ resigned. She could click on anybot’s name and learn their entire medical history. So much for patient-doctor confidentiality, huh, Knock Out?

She clicked on Breakdown’s name and the usual information came up. His name, place of origin, frame and spark type, weapons and a bunch more medical stuff Arcee had no clue what it meant.

“Well, I see a, um,” Arcee studied the graph, “a wave bar thing here, is this what you want?”

She startled when she heard a loud buzzing sound. Knock Out, with tools in each servo, was in the process of slicing the through the human chamber within Breakdown. He had a yellow visor over his optics and a mask covering his mouthplate. The mask transformed so he could say clearly, “Yes, send that copy to my opticals. It should be under blue-spec.” Transforming the mask back over his mouthplate, he bent over Breakdown again and sparks began to shoot out as he continued searing through the metal. 

Arcee reduced the volume of her audios to refrain from hearing the loud buzzing. After sending the details, and anything else he may need about Breakdown, Arcee realised she could literally explore any of her teammate’s medical information.

On Breakdown’s, there was an entire list of details regarding all the procedures he had gone through. Because it was Knock Out’s files, it included Breakdown’s history before the two had joined the _Nemesis_. To Arcee, it looked like his history was mostly damage repair from battles. No medications were prescribed. Although in the footnotes, there was a strange little marker that said ‘ _Once. Operation successful. No lasting harm incurred to the spark. Less anesthesia next time. ... Happened again. Operation successful, etc._ ’ 

Not understanding what that meant, Arcee decided to look for her name on the list. Her file was almost the same, basic information she already knew about herself, including a long list of repairs and procedures. Like Breakdown's all from battle damage. However, what interested her was, that unlike Breakdown, she had a medication prescribed to her. 

Taken aback and a little confused, she recognised the name of an antidepressant. Next to the medication was written: ‘ _Patient is withdrawn and antisocial. Witnessed the death of a field partner. Suffers from survivor's guilt and depression. ... Subscription temporary suspended_ '.

Arcee frowned. The date for this medication and note was… right when she had joined Team Prime on Earth. So it must have been Ratchet who wrote this. But he had never spoken to her about suggested medications, nor had she ever shared her struggling emotions she had experienced when she had joined Optimus and his Team. Everything Ratchet wrote must have been through pure observation. As she read, she noticed an addendum was made: 

‘ _Medication no longer suggested. Patient appears to be recovering gradually through social interactions with an individual_ ’. 

Cliffjumper. 

Arcee did recall how reluctant she had been when she had first joined the team, that was true. If it hadn't been for Cliffjumper, then would Arcee really have succumbed to an even worse depression? If he had helped her then, what hope did she have for herself now?

Interestingly, there was no note about her loss of Cliffjumper. 

Out of curiosity, she clicked Knock Out’s name. His file was nearly empty. There was no mention of his origins or that he was once a seeker. The list of repairs were so minimal that Arcee had to conclude that he was just not cataloguing his own surgeries. No medication prescribed. No mention of his loss of Breakdown, or how it affected him emotionally. Or that he had sired a newspark.

Back to the main directory, she selected Smokescreen's name. But like Knock Out's, his was virtually empty. Only a list of a few repairs performed by Ratchet. No mention of his sires. 

Arcee stole a look at Knock Out. He was working his way around M.E.C.H.'s puppet box with his blade and was nearly complete.

She wasn't entirely sure what to make of this sparkchamber thing and reinstalling it into the dead frame. Through all her millions of years in a war and having seen some of the worst damage imaginable, she had never heard of such a procedure. She wasn't sure how successful it was going to be. 

And if he wasn't? Well, hopefully that mysterious box of 'insurance' was enough to bridge sire and heir. Were Knock Out’s image cards and videos enough to crack Smokescreen’s processor? 

"Do newsparks typically remember their sires?" Arcee folded her arms, speaking her thoughts aloud.

Knock Out cast one glance up at her. Transforming his visor and mouthguard away, he put his tools on the table and began to pry the cockpit seat out of Breakdown.

"What makes you speak of that?" he asked, still focused on his task.

"When I transformed into an adult, my sires were standing right there to greet me and tell me I belonged to them," she shrugged. "But you said Smokescreen has no memory of you.”

"He… had some memories,” Knock Out said. “Some that don't quite make sense."

"In what way?" Arcee asked.

Knock Out resumed his work. "He mentioned a bot that didn't exist."

Arcee frowned. "By name?"

But Knock Out shook his helm. "I don't understand it myself, but the photographs and video should be enough evidence to penetrate his _thick_ processor."

Only a sire could insult his heir like that, Arcee thought wryly. Whether Knock Out knew it or not, he really did think of Smokescreen as some sort of relation. "So when will you approach him again?" She added sarcastically, "So you can check off the little 'I'm right' box on your score chart?"

Knock Out chuckled. "One task at a time, Arcee! And Breakdown has my priority at the moment."

"I'm sure Breakdown will recognise Smokescreen," Arcee commented.

"I'm sure he will," was all Knock Out said.

"So you might want to resolve anything before Breakdown gets added to the mix,” she suggested. It was a long time ago since she had run into Breakdown, but she had a vague memory of what he had been like. Or more specifically, his temperament. “Not sure what he'll do when he finds out Smokescreen wants nothing to do with him.”

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Knock Out granted Arcee a brief dubious look before returning to his work.

"Well," Arcee shrugged, "I don't remember much about Breakdown, but he was the big, tough, angry guy, right? Likes to smash things?"

"Is _that_ your perception of Breakdown?" Knock Out had an amused smile playing on his mouthplate, but his expression told her he was almost ridiculing her. "You think he'd throw Smokescreen like an enemy Autobot about to kill him because Smokescreen hasn't matured past a newspark?"

"So you’re saying he’s actually a big softie on the inside?" Arcee asked. This time, she was the one to cast doubt. 

"I don’t know… 'Angry all the time’ and 'smashing things', _are_ incredible turn ons to me, " Knock Out mused sarcastically.

Arcee exuded a venting sigh. “You know, I really only hear Bulkhead's take on him and Bulkhead doesn’t exactly cast him in a holy light."

"I know it’s hard for Autobots to comprehend, but there _are_ two sides to every story,” Knock Out replied.

Arcee considered this in application to the Decepticon in question. "So what's he like then?” she asked. “What am I to expect when I meet him for the first time as allies?"

But all Knock Out said was, "You'll see when you meet him," frustrating Arcee.

"No, come on, I want to hear it from a Decepticon," she insisted. "You're right, I only know Breakdown as some stereotypical Decepticon. So correct me. What is it you see in a bot like him in the same way that I see Cliffjumper."

"He's incredibly gifted with a rotary buffer," Knock Out supplied casually.

"You raised a newspark with him," Arcee countered.

"Is that hard for you to imagine?" he asked. With a mighty heave, Knock Out pulled the makeshift mechanism seat out of Breakdown and stumbled towards a nearby table with it, slamming it down. 

"The Breakdown I knew didn't exactly look like the patient-doting type." Arcee was becoming increasingly exasperated with his round about answers.

Knock Out gave her a funny look. "Because we're Decepticons?"

"Knock Out," Arcee said seriously, "I’m telling you my view of Breakdown. Clearly, you think I’m wrong. I get it, I have an Autobot view of the world. Care to enlighten me?”

She watched as he pulled out a box of small delicate-looking tools from a drawer. Selecting a few, he stepped back onto the stool to peer into Breakdown’s open chassis and begin mending what looked to Arcee like a series of latches. 

"Alright,” Knock Out began, “Then you answered your own question. What you see in Cliffjumper, is what I see in Breakdown.”

Arcee rolled her optics dramatically. “Cliffjumper is nothing like Breakdown.”

“Really?” he asked. Was it just her, or did it sound like he was feigning surprise.

"Does it really bother you to talk about your feelings like this?" Although she teased, she was internally fed-up.

It took her by surprise, but he didn't respond right away. She craned her pipes to see if maybe Knock Out hadn't heard her or maybe was too busy to respond right away. But when she caught a glimpse of him, he looked somewhat disconcerted.

It took him a moment, but Knock Out did respond. "You can put your Autobot ideals at ease and rest assured that yes, I am in love with the bot I take to berth, we are exclusive to one another, our vows are valid and our ceremony held and witnessed," he added wryly. "Breakdown, to me, is much more than just an angry Decepticon wielding a hammer."

"You? The whole ceremony and shebang?" Arcee asked incredulous. 

He cocked a brow ridge at her. "Well it wasn't held out in the wilderness," he said with a laugh.

"You had witnesses?" she asked, still at odds with picturing Knock Out at his own Sparkbonding Ceremony. She understood that he and Breakdown were sparkmates, but still, the image of him going through the official motions didn't suit his style in her view. "I thought Decepticons didn't have friends?" she mocked jokingly.

This earned an authentic laugh from Knock Out. "No, they don't- but his was before the war. I wasn't a Decepticon then," he said.

"So was Bulkhead there?" she asked slyly.

"And who told you I know Bulkhead?" he said with great interest, actually looking up.

Arcee folded her arms. "He did actually."

"Well, I hope he spoke highly of me," Knock Out said with obvious disdain.

"Not much," she said. She noticed the tiniest glimpse at her from Knock Out. "Just that you three all knew each other pre-war. And something about somebot being a third wheel," she added with humour.

Knock Out made a rude sound. "I'll say. He sure knew when to knock at the most inopportune times- throwing 'advice' at us that nobot asked for-"

"And Smokescreen?" Arcee pressed, "Or was he had out of wedlock?"

"Ha!" Knock Out laughed, "I get it!" he chuckled, understanding the human joke. "No, Smokescreen was before that. Before Breakdown and I split up."

"Split up?" Arcee asked, now confused by this surprise information. "You guys split up?" 

"Yes, we were kind of like this in the early days," and he made a bizarre waving gesture with his servo.

"Ok, but what does this," and she mimicked the gesture, "mean?"

"Roller-coaster," Knock Out clarified. "When we were on, we were _on_. But sometimes... we were off. Took us awhile to grow up, that's all."

"And once he put a ring on it, you were Together Forever?" Arcee clarified.

"Indeed," Knock out replied. 

"So... if you had Smokescreen before the two of you were sparkbonded and you guys did a series of splits... it must have been Breakdown then, right? Who kept Smokescreen?" Arcee mused aloud. "Maybe that's why he doesn't remember you? He spent more time with Breakdown in comparison?"

"Come again?" Knock Out asked without looking up.

"Am I getting the timeline wrong?" Arcee asked. 

She thought she heard Knock Out make an exasperated noise. "It didn't exactly occur that way," he said, his vocaliser dropping in tone, becoming serious. She allowed him a moment to think and finally he admitted, "We didn't all part ways by choice."

"You're being vague again," Arcee said. Finally, she seemed to be getting some truth out of Knock Out.

It took him awhile, but Knock Out said, "Then: the government that would become the Autobots stole him from us because I was deemed 'unfit' for committing the awful crime of 'being a seeker'. So pardon me, if I'm bit _biased_ against Autobots." 

Arcee was silent as she thought this over. Smokescreen forcibly taken away? She struggled to recall early war days- when the government and council was under fire for their corruption. She had been sheltered from a lot of the early Decepticon propaganda, but she did have memories of Megatronus, before he would become Megatron, demanding equality among Cybertronians. Could the council have really been so vile as to rip a newspark away from its sires? Newsparks were utterly dependant and attached to the sires that helped spark them. Such an act was horrendously cruel.

Eventually, Arcee asked tentatively, "Is that why you chose the Decepticons?"

"For Smokescreen?" Knock Out asked, skeptical. "Of course not. The Decepticons were winning. We chose them to survive."

"So..." Arcee asked, not sure if she was hearing this right, "If it had been the Autobots winning at the time, you would have chosen them?"

"Probably," Knock Out shrugged. He sounded agitated but she couldn't tell if it was from the tedious work of repairing the inside of Breakdown or her questions. 

She wasn't sure how much she believed that statement, especially if he so vehemently blamed the Autobots- even if they hadn't been formed yet- for destroying what- very clearly was to Arcee- his once, dare she say, 'family'. Perhaps even Knock Out, once upon a time, wasn't so guarded and petty. Maybe the image card she had seen- three smiling faces- was much closer to the truth than Knock Out cared to admit.

"Smokescreen's bound to remember if you and Breakdown were such caring sires-" she started to say until she was abruptly cut off: 

"Are you kidding me?" Knock Out sneered, "We were awful sires! I counted crystals with Smokescreen on the counter right in front of me! He could have eaten any of it! I once left him at the library overnight because I didn't want my study partner to see that I had a newspark as I was manipulating my partner's emotions so he would do my work for me. Primus, Arcee- Breakdown and I would interface loudly in the next room and leave him unsupervised. We were terrible! My life isn't some kind of fairytale just because you need to reassure yourself that I was ever once _your_ idea of a good bot so you can accept me."

Arcee didn't know what to say. There was still that small thought in her processor that fought with her to try and see this elusive and perhaps fictitious portrait of a once 'good and simple life' Knock Out so that she could... could what? Sympathise with him?

She watched Knock Out vent, shake his helm and proceed to pull a series of cords hooked up to an arm in the ceiling and apply them to Breakdown.

"Okay," Arcee said cautiously. "I get it. I just thought that image card of the three of you told a different story."

Knock Out, who had been adjusting a bunch of settings on the monitors, glanced at her from over his shoulder plating. She could just feel those critical optics of his scrutinising her. 

He turned around, one hand on hip, and said, "We were awful sires. But not by intention. And yes, if that's what you need to hear, we were happy- all three of us. Bear in mind, that was a _long_ time ago. But since you _need_ to know, my spark has never forgotten its one heir, understand?"

Arcee nodded and Knock Out looked about himself, as if searching for something, but instead approached the sparkchamber.

"Then maybe Smokescreen's spark never forgot his sires?" she suggested.

Knock Out's look was of disbelief, but he seemed too preoccupied- or exasperated- to protest. So he said nothing. 

Cautiously, he wrapped his arms around the sparkchamber, ready to embrace its weight as he carried it over to the stool, allowing him the leverage of height to carefully place it back where it belonged.

Arcee understood that Breakdown wasn’t just going to spring to life after having the sparkchamber plugged in, but it still unnerved her when nothing happened. 

As Knock Out proceeded to snap shut a series of tiny clips all along the inside of Breakdown’s chassis, locking in the sparkchamber, Arcee noticed energon pumping through cables in the ceiling, flooding into Breakdown. Perhaps he would come to life sooner than she anticipated- which was never.

But while Knock Out worked dashing from monitor to monitor, to the spark chamber, to the inside of Breakdown’s chassis and back again, the pressure of the situation began to weigh down on the both of them. Arcee could see it, Knock Out was losing his confidence in the procedure and the more stressed he appeared, the more Arcee wondered if he knew what he was even doing anymore.

And this was becoming more apparent as alarms and flashing lights appeared from the monitors.

“Knock Out!” Arcee took a step towards Knock Out. He ran past her and beginning to rapidly hit a bunch of buttons on the keypress. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Just as she said this another siren blared from who-knew-where and Arcee jumped. 

“ _Scrap!_ ” Knock Out swore and he began pulling more cords from another ceiling crane and hastily added them to Breakdown.

But as he did this, energon began to pour out of Breakdown’s open chassis and spill onto the floor. 

“Knock Out!” Arcee alarmed.

“I _know!_ ” Knock out growled. She watched helplessly as he hit more buttons only to have even more energon begin to gush out of the frame.

Arcee’s processor raced with ways she could assist, but she literally did not understand any of what Knock Out was doing. She could see multiple graph readings spiking up and down, a bunch of numbers flashing on another screen, but all of it could have just as well been another language to her.

“I… I don’t know what to do!” Knock Out exclaimed tersely. Energon continued to flow out of Breakdown, pooling onto the floor at Knock Out’s pedes. “Nothing… Nothing I’m doing is working!”

Arcee stared in horror at the mess. “Pull some cables-”

“I can’t!” Knock Out cried, and made a feeble gesture as if to block her from nearing Breakdown or any of the medical equipment. “If I stop the procedure, I- it might not work! I don’t know how to get it running again! I managed to match the spark rhythm to the installation driver but-”

Arcee shook her head, not understanding any of the medical jargon. All she knew, was that they needed to do something _now_. She leapt over the creeping energon now spreading out and ran towards the computer.

“Just stop the energon flowing!” she yelled at him.

“If I stop it- it might, I mean, there’s something… it’s not a pulse but it’s sustaining the frame-” Knock Out rambled, “Or starting to-”

“Ratchet?” Arcee had quickly contacted Hangar E via the computer. To her surprise, it was actually Ratchet who answered. “Ratchet, we need you on the _Nemesis- stat!_ It’s an emergency!”

“W-wh-wait just a minute!” Ratchet snapped back. He craned his pipes as if trying to look around Arcee despite them communicating through computer. “Arcee? What’s going on? Who is injured?”

“It’s not really something I can explain,” Arcee hesitated, glancing behind her. The energon was beginning to spread to her pedes. She heard splashing as Knock Out dashed behind her. “Just start up a bridge and I’ll meet you on the other side. Oh, and I’m not sure how useful it’s going to be, but bring your medical kit,” she advised. 

Before Ratchet could protest, Arcee shut off the communication. she had only had her back turned for a klick but already the energon gushing out of Breakdown from the supply hose was overwhelming and beginning to splash out in waves. 

“Knock Out!” she exclaimed. “I thought you said you could fix this!”

“I am!” Surprisingly, Knock Out sounded distressed and not angry. “I don’t understand, why this is happening! I mean, I took the spark type into account…”

“Here,” Arcee said hastily, shoving the bucket into Knock Out’s servos. “Just start cleaning up and I’ll go get Ratchet.”

Knock Out didn’t even protest as she flew out the doors of the medbay. Transforming, immediately, she sped down the corridor and once again headed towards the bridge. Just as she entered the bridge, Ratchet stepped through the spacebridge. With his medical kit in one servo, he looked around the large room.

“What’s the emergency?” He sounded half agitated, half genuinely concerned. “It sounded urgent.”

Arcee transformed and motioned for him to follow. He jogged across the bridge and the two bots sped walked back towards the medbay. Arcee wasn’t entirely sure how to prep Ratchet for what he was about to see.

“It’s not what you think,” Arcee began. “It’s not exactly life or death- well, maybe it is. I’m not sure. But if there’s any bot who can do something-”

“Slow down,” Ratchet interrupted hastily. “Start from the beginning. Who is injured-”

But the doors to the medbay opened and now Ratchet could see for himself just exactly what the predicament was.

“Wha… what in the allspark…” Ratchet stood in the doorway to the medbay. 

Energon was all over the floor up to the hubcaps of the wheels in Knock Out’s pedes. It was all over Knock Out. He was bathed in the filtering energon, masking his chassis, arms and faceplate. Energon was absolutely everywhere, it was like a massacre had just occurred. 

“Help me,” Knock Out’s optics were wide.

Ratchet strode forwards, the energon splashing with each step. Arcee trailed behind him. Still looking all around the room, he finally reacted to Breakdown's presence.

“Knock Out,” Ratchet voice trembled aghast. “What are you trying to do?”

Knock Out dashed towards Breakdown’s lifeless frame as if a subconscious move to protect it. He pulled some more cords from a crane in the ceiling. He started strapping more of them to certain points on Breakdown’s frame. 

“I’m-” he began.

But Ratchet finished his sentence, “ _Re-installing a sparkchamber?_ ” He was visibly horrified. “But Breakdown is _dead_.”

“No!” Knock Out snarled, jumping off the stool and running over to the monitor with what Arcee had deduced was Breakdown’s spark rhythm. He slapped his energon soaked servo onto the screen. “His sparkchamber was ripped out, he was never dead!”

Ratchet approached the frame. He pressed a button on the berth and the berth tilted towards him. In doing so, another rush of energon spilt out of Breakdown. 

“The locking hardware has been damaged,” Ratchet said slowly, reaching for where the sparkchamber was hooked into Breakdown’s chassis. “You’re not getting an efficient read on his underlaying rhythms.”

“I suspect it’s from when Airachnid ripped his sparkchamber out-” Knock Out clarified. His venting was labored but he was clearly attempting to compose himself. 

“And you don’t have his frame’s lower algorhythms in sync with the pulse,” Ratchet said now gesturing to the readings on the monitors. “That’s going to interfere with the ill reading on his incoming spark rhythms. The outgoing isn’t going to be a proper read!” 

Perhaps Knock Out understood all this, but he blurted out, “But can you fix him?” 

Ratchet too, cued in on Knock Out’s desperation. He looked at the sight in front of him. The only sounds were the alarm from a monitor and the gushing energon splatting onto the floor in a grisly waterfall.

“Yes,” Ratchet said, his vocaliser quiet. “I know how to re-install a sparkchamber.” And he paused, just staring at Breakdown’s spark. Or was that what Ratchet was looking at? Before Arcee could comprehend, Ratchet stirred into action. “But if he starts talking about being on a mission from Primus,” he said, reaching for some tools Arcee did not recognise, “Don’t blame me.”

And without further asking, Ratchet began fiddling with the outer clips hooking in Breakdown’s sparkchamber. 

“Knock Out-” he said, not looking up from his work. “Lower the energon input to thirty-five percent. Arcee, start cleaning up this mess.”

Arcee’s mouthplate dropped. She wanted to protest for being assigned such a disgusting job, but she realised it was probably for the better. It wasn’t like she could do any of their jobs. So she reached for the bucket and and the cleaning hose from the wall and assisted in what little ways she could.

What proceeded next was joors of silent efficiency. Ratchet and Knock Out barely spoke to one another and yet Arcee caught them working in tandem. Knock Out would observe Ratchet and within the instant, he would know what to do to help the progress.

From what Arcee interpreted, re-installing a sparkchamber was clearly a difficult task. Something clearly beyond the capabilities of just any medic. Something, somehow, Ratchet had learned and may have performed more than once. 

When Arcee had finally cleaned up the mess of energon, she realised joors had gone by, and more would yet. The medics assigned simple tasks to Arcee every now and then and she would observe as she performed their tasks. From what Arcee could comprehend, there was a slot of measuring and syncing of spark and frame, but other diagnostics within the frame that Arcee wasn’t even aware existing. And then there was linking all of that to the neural net… 

All this tedious, tenuous work only affirmed to Arcee that she belonged on a battlefield and not in a medbay.

Her back had been turned as she sent some more information from the datapad to the main computer when she thought she heard an abrupt gasp from what had to have been Knock Out. She was just about to turn around when she heard a voice she hadn’t heard in such a long time. 

Arcee didn’t even recognise it as first. But by process of elimination, it could only be one bot. It wasn’t Ratchet’s vocaliser and not Knock Out’s. A hush captivated the room’s inhabitants. Arcee hadn’t even realised they were so close to their goal when it happened. Surely at this point, she was expecting them to just work forever, so much time had gone by already.

Knock Out had one hand raised, probably over his mouthplate as he stood next to Ratchet who had been by the main computer measuring more graphs.

Where Arcee stood, she had a clear view.

Light- a faint yellow glow- shone softly as.... as Breakdown’s optics began to shutter open. 

The room was so quiet, Arcee thought everybot could hear her spark pulse. 

But everybot’s attention was directed to the patient. 

A digit twitched. 

Arcee couldn’t believe what she was witnessing was real. 

But it was.

He moved his mouthplate. No sound. He made another attempt… 

“Kn… Knock Out..?”

And Arcee could make no more excuses. Breakdown was alive. Apparently, dead bots really do come back.

 

_**(The Flashback. . . Before the War)** _

_Failed._

Knock Out stared at the datapad.

_Ownership application failed. Status: class-type rejected._

No matter how long Knock Out stared at the datapad, he could not will the results to change. Still, he could not remove his optics from the f-word on the screen. Booming, it screamed at him, deafening his audios inside his processor. His own fiery optics reflected off the screen, irritating him until he finally shuttered. He exuded a long venting sigh, ignoring the tugs he felt from the little servos grabbing at his knee blades.

Only when Smokescreen continued to persist did Knock Out finally lower the datapad and look down at the newspark staring back up at him with those intensely curious blue optics as if to say 'why not look at me instead!'.

“No need to fret,” Knock Out spoke. He brandished a superior grin to mask his emotions. Smokescreen tilted his helm curiously. Placing the datapad down on the counter, Knock Out lowered his arm, allowing Smokescreen to latch on before lifting the newspark up and over to the wash basin filled with water. "I always have a solution," Knock Out sang soothingly as he bent to his knees and began to swirl the water around before lowering Smokescreen into the basin. 

Touching the water, Smokescreen let out a high-pitched sound of delight. Happily, he began to paddle about the water as it lapped at the bottom of his mouthplate. 

"And I have lots of distractions to keep you busy," Knock Out added while reaching into a shopping crate. Constantly learning and observing, Smokescreen peered over the basin to watch what Knock Out was going to do next. Knock Out was completely aware of this and glanced back at the newspark. Smokescreen never studied other bots like he did his two sires. This little bot knew whom it was attached to.

And, delightfully, Smokescreen clapped his servos together and made more cheerful wails when Knock Out pulled out two brand new newspark scanning toys: a boat and a submarine. Excited by the new toys, Smokescreen scanned the boat before it even hit the water.

"Would you look at that," Knock Out commented, "Somebot's being spoiled today and it isn't me."

He couldn't help but be amused as Smokescreen attempted to transform into the simply constructed boat made for learning newsparks. The pieces didn't quite fit together on the first few attempts, but finally he was successful and he began motoring around the basin proudly in his new alt mode.

"Don't get too used to that alt mode," Knock Out cautioned. He scooped up some of the water and allowed it to dribble onto Smokescreen's deck. Taken by surprise, Smokescreen zipped out from underneath the water playfully. "I doubt you have a seafarer's t-cog" Knock Out continued to muse aloud, "So unless you want to slice yours out..."

But Smokescreen, unable to understand Knock Out, continued to play unphased. After circling the basin a few times, he transformed back into a little bot and proceeded to scan the submarine. 

"What's the matter?" Knock Out lowered his faceplate to the edge of the basin. "Not afraid of a little cut?" and he made a snipping action with his digits in front of Smokescreen. 

But instead of being frightened, the newspark launched forwards in a splash and grabbed onto Knock Out's digits, followed by a cheerful laugh.

Taken aback by the show of affection, Knock Out quickly retracted his digits out from under the little servos. Confused by his sire's action. Smokescreen sat in the basin, just staring... staring... the optics focusing and re-focusing, reading Knock Out, studying, attempting to understand... 

Well there wasn't any way Smokescreen could even begin to understand. How this little creation could look at Knock Out with such utter devotion and attachment, well, he looked down at his digits, then back to Smokescreen. He narrowed his brow ridges. It baffled Knock Out. 

Besides, once Smokescreen transformed into an adult, the inevitable would sink in. Smokescreen clearly wasn't going to be a seeker like Knock Out. So once he discovered who his old mech was and what kind of position that meant socially...

Well, if Breakdown was thinking that Smokescreen would stick around after discovering that, then he was in for the cold hard truth. That much Knock Out was sure of.

That is, unless Knock Out was able to make the change before Smokescreen transformed.

"Well, I'm not afraid of a little cut," Knock Out said to Smokescreen. 

There, on the counter, was a fresh tcog. Knock Out picked it up gingerly within his long, clawed digits and scruitinised it closely. A fully-functional, working t-cog. Knock Out could have easily turned around and sold it for thousands of shanix. But for him, within this moment of time, it was worth far more than that.

"With this little treasure," he spoke to himself quietly. "A whole new world of opportunity waits for me on the other side." And he became entranced by the future he could see within the t-cog.

Completely distracted, Knock Out shook himself out of his trance and faced Smokescreen again. Still, the newspark had not moved and continued to stare at him. Slowly, it dawned on him that Smokescreen was still waiting for some sort of indication of explanation for why Knock Out had withdrawn from him so abruptly. 

Feeling uneasy, Knock Out hesitated. 

It was the judging. That's what Knock Out didn't like about Smokescreen’s optics. The constant observing. Except it wasn't _judging_ , it was the opposite. Knock Out was on a pedestal to this newspark, just by simply being its sire. Knock Out didn't like the feeling.

He knew that it should feed his hungry ego. He loved being adored, it was in his coding. But Knock Out felt no satisfaction from being perceived as perfection from this newspark. Something else nagged at him from inside.

Fear. Fear of imperfection. And Knock Out hated being reminded that he wasn't perfect. Smokescreen saw perfection, but when he transformed into an adult, he would see what Knock Out saw. And that's why this t-cog was so important.

"Play with your toys," Knock Out reassured, standing up. But when Smokescreen did not return to his play, Knock Out paused. 

Reaching down, he tipped Smokescreen's chin to meet him in the optics. "I'm going to fix everything tonight," he said. So when Smokescreen made a tentative move to again hold Knock Out's digits, this time, Knock Out did not retract. Instead, he allowed the newspark- _his_ newspark- to touch him. 

Appeased, Smokescreen abruptly clunkily transformed into the submarine and dove under the water. Suppressing doubt, Knock Out reached under the water and pretended to chase Smokescreen, making his servos form a biting shape. Bubbled laughter sounded from the water and Smokescreen crested the water and transformed to a bot, back to a boat and playfully chugged about the basin. 

Even Knock Out couldn't help but smile. 

But the t-cog he still held reminded him that he had a lot to achieve in just a few joors. So, leaving Smokescreen to play with his new toys, Knock Out strode over to the equipment he laid out on the floor near the rinse station. He had all the tools he'd need to perform this operation. 

Newspark distracted? Check. Equipment for surgery? Check. One freshly stolen t-cog? Check. So Knock Out settled himself onto the metal floor by the drain and selected some rubbing liquid and a scalpel. 

Just one little cut, he repeated to himself. He would repeat this to himself over and over, even as the pain and energon flowed out of the little cut in his side. Soon, the amount pouring out was out of control and Knock Out clutched his removed t-cog, his own energon running through his digits and pooling onto the floor into a puddle, too thick to drain quickly. Panic seized him and he abandoned his effort to install the new t-cog and instead struggled to patch himself back together to prevent any more energon loss. 

But by this point, his vision blurred and his processor became clouded. As he fought to cling to consciousness, the last thing Knock Out would see before blacking out completely were those large, round blue optics peering at him from the very edge of the washing basin. Learning... studying... watching...

 

It was the wailing cries that stirred Knock Out out of unconsciousness. Taken aback, Smokescreen was no longer in the washing basin but right in Knock Out's faceplate wailing as loud as his little pipes could muster. Hissing in pain from an attempt to sit up, Knock Out slipped in his own energon back to the ground. He shut his optics again, feeling his entire system continuing to crash from lack of energon.

But, jarred by the sound, Knock Out heard a shrill wail emit from Smokescreen and through blurry optics, he saw the little newspark transform in his ball alt mode and roll out of the washing room. What stirred Smokescreen into fleeing, Knock Out wasn't sure, not until he thought he vaguely heard:

"Knock Out?" from the main suite. 

Knock Out struggled to push himself up right. But his servo landed in his own energon causing his servo to slap and he crashed back onto the ground. A wave of pain seared through his frame from his wound. 

"Smokescreen?" Knock Out's audio's twinged as he recognised Breakdown's vocaliser. He knew Smokescreen had transformed again because he heard his wailing cries from the other room. “What’s wrong, bud..?” Breakdown asked.

It wasn’t long before Knock Out heard the lumbering pedesteps as Breakdown entered the washing room and-

"What in the Pi- Frag!" A shadow loomed over Knock Out. Blocking the glare of the light in the ceiling, Knock Out was able to squint up and see Breakdown. "Frag!” Breakdown swore, “Knock Out! What in the Pit happened in here!?”

Vocaliser caught in his pipes, Knock Out could not respond through the pain. Already, his optics were beginning to blur again. 

“What the scrap,” Breakdown swore again over the sounds of Smokescreen crying who was hoisted under Breakdown’s arm. “What the scrap are these?!”

Knock Out opened his optics again and saw Breakdown reach down.

“Don’t!” Knock Out rasped and cringed back as a slice of pain cut through his frame from moving. “Those… they’re my t-cogs…”

Breakdown placed the t-cog down. “They’re _what?_ ” and he looked at where Knock Out had cut himself open. “You were… Frag! Knock Out, you idiot! You were trying to swap ‘em!?”

“Call me an idiot later!” Knock Out hissed through his pain. “I need…”

“You need a fraggin’ medic!” Breakdown placed Smokescreen down next to Knock Out and began to storm out of the room.

“NO!” Knock Out cried out, reaching for Breakdown in a lame attempt to stop him.

“No what!?” Breakdown shot back. “You’re gonna die!”

As if on cue, Smokescreen screamed louder and struggled to crawl on top of Knock Out’s chassis in an attempt to be closer to his sire’s spark.

“I… I stole it…” Knock Out gasped through the pain. His optics were fighting to focus on Breakdown. Strength leaving him, he slumped into his own pool of energon, throwing Smokescreen off his chassis and into Knock Out’s energon on the washing room floor.

“You what?” Breakdown repeated, stomping towards him.

Knock Out shut his optics, the side of his faceplate resting in his energon flat against the floor. “I stole the t-cog from school… I’ll… they’ll kick me out. I can’t go to a medic, they’ll know.”

Knock Out opened his optics to see Breakdown scoop up Smokescreen and toss him up on his usual seat between his head and his back tire.

“I’m finding you a medic, now!” Breakdown shouted as he ran out of the room. 

The details of what happened next were incredibly hazy for Knock Out. He thought he heard Breakdown talking to somebot else. Maybe over the computer- but who, Knock Out wasn’t sure. The only thing Knock Out was sure of was whether his optics were open or not- whether he blacked out or not- was the constant sound- coming from somewhere- of Smokescreen’s cries. His body and spark, whether he liked it or not, was forever primed to alert to the sound of its newspark's cries.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been out, but he felt something being wrapped around him. 

“Wha…” Knock Out mumbled. 

“It's a tarp. To wrap you in,” Breakdown explained. “I found a medic. Some back-alley doc. He won’t ask any questions I'm told. But he’s on the other side of town, so I need to carry you.”

Or something to that effect. Next thing Knock Out knew he had blacked out again and when he opened his optics, it was because he felt the chill of the night air.

A raindrop hit him in his faceplate and ran down into his mouthplate. More raindrops hit him, stirring him into waking. At least, just for a little while. 

Cradled in Breakdown’s arms, Knock Out could feel his energon still seeping from his wound and collecting within the tarp he was wrapped in. 

"What did you think you were doing?” Breakdown spoke when he noticed Knock Out waken.

His partner's vocaliser shook slightly but Breakdown continued to look ahead as he ran down the street through the rain in the dark. A look of pure determination was on his faceplate. Behind him, Smokescreen was staring down at Knock Out, looking as if he could cry again at any moment.

He couldn't take the stareing. Hadn't he said that already today? So Knock Out curled into himself. His entire system felt like it was about to collapse from lack of energon. Already he could feel his processor shutting down. 

"I just... I wanted to,” he slurred, slumping into Breakdown’s hold. Despite the cold, Knock Out could feel the warmth emanating from Breakdown’s frame. He liked it. That is, If it had been any other situation. 

But he wouldn't finish his sentence. Breakdown wouldn't hear what Knock Out had been trying to do, his reasons for operating on himself to change his t-cog to one where he could scan flightless forms and shed his seeker origins. Knock Out fell into unconsciousness for the last time that night, led into darkness by the sound of the rain and the hiccuping sobs of his newspark.

 

He didn’t even use the stairs. He jumped down and burst through the back door. He wasn’t even sure what was going to be on the other side, but he had seen the secret sign and it was just as he had been told. This was the medic that could fix Knock Out. 

“I need a medic!” was the first thing out of Breakdown’s mouthplate.

Only after his outburst did he take in his surroundings.

Breakdown had bust into a waiting room, a room far smaller than his own main suite. There were a few benches along the wall, a table with some pamphlet cards and datascrolls for reading material. 

Opposite Breakdown, a tall femme stood behind a counter. She was broad shouldered with a high crest along her helm. Very appealing. She barely shuttered when he had nearly broken the door when he entered.

Remembering why he was here, Breakdown strode forwards and crashed Knock Out's unconscious frame onto the counter between him and the only other bot in the room.

"I need help," he said, struggling and failing to keep calm. Knock Out's energon began to pour out of the tarp and onto the counter. "He-"

But the femme, as if she had been nothing but a statue, suddenly sprang to life, exuding the most dramatic gasp Breakdown had ever heard in his life.

"PRIMUS!" she exclaimed, "I'll go get the medic right away!!" and before Breakdown could explain any further, the femme disappeared down a corridor within the room on the other side of the counter. Breakdown craned his pipes as he watched her bounce down the hall in a flurry.

But he turned his attention back to Knock Out. He carefully unfolded the tarp with one servo as he slipped his other behind Knock Out's helm. He tilted his helm towards him. Knock Out felt completely lifeless in his hold and it terrified Breakdown. Seeing him this way, it was like he was… offline. 

With the wound revealed, he wondered if he should try to clean up the energon around the wound, but reconsidered since he didn't know what was best from a medical standpoint. Breakdown felt his spark surge when he realised how helpless he was to save the bot he cared about the most.

"You're gonna be okay," he started to say but the door next to the counter flew open and two mechs came to a skidding halt. 

"What's the emergency?" the shorter one demanded. 

"Uh... uh..." Breakdown knew what to say, but he was caught off guard and stumbled on his own glossa as he usually did when attention was on him. "He, these..." and he unclipped a small tin attached to his waist and handed it towards the mechs.

The taller one with the wings took it. He opened it up and showed the shorter one.

"T-cogs," said the taller mech. He must be a medic, he had red signs painted on either one of his wings.

"Is one of these the patient's?" the shorter one asked. He reached inside a medic kit he had brought with him and began to record Knock Out's readings.

"Yeah," Breakdown responded. "He took it out, I found him bleeding all over the place-"

As if he could understand, Smokescreen started to wail, shocking all the bots, even Breakdown.

"Alright," the shorter medic growled. "You-" he pointed to the tall medic. "Get me a stretcher and let's take him to room A. You-" he pointed to the femme as the tall medic dashed out of the room. "Take care of _that_ ," and he jabbed a digit at... Breakdown? No, Smokescreen.

"I, sorry," Breakdown fumbled, reaching up behind his helm to cradle a fidgeting Smokescreen. He tried holding him tight, but Smokescreen only squirmed more. "But you can fix him right?"

"Who, the patient?" the short medic asked, taking more diagnostics. "I'll see what I can do. No promises."

Before Breakdown could protest, the tall medic appeared with a stretcher and the two lifted Knock Out off the tarp on the counter and onto the stretcher. Then without another word about how long this would take or any kind of reassurance, they were gone through the door.

Breakdown was left alone with a sobbing Smokescreen in his arms. He just stared at the doors. He shuttered his optics and looked down over his chassis at Smokescreen.

What if this was the last time he ever saw Knock Out alive?

The sound of the tarp being folded shook him out of his worrisome thoughts. He wasn’t really alone, the femme was still there, on the other side of the counter. So Breakdown bounced a crying Smokescreen as he approached the counter where, with the tips of her digits, she was folding and throwing away the bloody tarp.

"Uh, excuse me," he asked over the sound of Smokescreen’s wails. "How long are they gonna be?"

“Oh, you’re lucky you came in when you did,” the femme said, nodding insistently. But then she made a repulsive face, “Well, if there was _any_ a time to want to have _him_ around, this is it.” When Breakdown just stood there confused, not sure he understood, the femme clarified, “The one with the wings? He doesn’t actually work here. But he’s an expert with seekers, you know, cos he is one, so I’m sure they’ll be able to fix your friend.” There was another awkward pause and then suddenly, "OH!" she burst, as if she had totally forgotten Breakdown had been there the whole time. "I'm sorry!! I totally forgot!" and she disappeared below the counter.

“Forgot what?” Breakdown asked. “Look, do I just, wait here or…”

He tried to peer over the counter to see if she was ever going to pop back out when she leapt through the doors into the waiting room, startling him. This bizarre, lively femme baffled Breakdown. She took a seat along the bench and began writing on a datapad. When he didn’t sit down, she tapped the space next to her indicating for him to take a seat.

"Uh, what's this?" Breakdown asked. As soon as he sat down, the femme shoved a datapad into his lap.

"I need you to fill out this form for your friend,” she said. She pointed to a bunch of empty lines on the datapad. “Don’t worry, we don’t use real name here. See? This is his ID number. All this information is for our health records and is never shared or reported!”

Breakdown scanned the questions asked, but shook his helm. “I don’t know some of these,” he began to say.

“Well, I can read them to you, if you li-”

“I _can read_ ,” Breakdown said gruffly, “I mean I don't know some of this stuff about Kn- about my _friend_.”

“That’s okay!” the femme replied, “Just fill out what you can and it’ll help us fix him.”

“Yeah, sure,” Breakdown mumbled dismissively and starting filling out the form.

But Smokescreen on his lap was still distraught and began to fuss. He reached out with his tiny servos and grabbed at Breakdown’s digits as if trying to stop him from writing and demand comfort, letting out louder and louder wails.

“Hey, calm down,” Breakdown said, attempting to keep his voice low. “Quit it.”

“Oh, you have a newspark!!” the femme was just about to head through the doors into the reception area when she whipped around in excitement. Breakdown stared back, bewildered how she did not notice Smokescreen's cries earlier. 

She rushed back to her seat next to Breakdown and reached out for Smokescreen, plucking him off his lap without asking and started cradling him close to her chassis.

"Poor thing!" she wailed, "Did you see your sire get hurt?" she cooed. "Don't you worry, we'll take good care of him! Poor dear..." and she hugged him tightly and patted him on the back.

Breakdown frowned at her behaviour. Hastily, he added, "Kn- uh, my friend isn't his sire. I mean, we're not-"

"No?" she asked, sincerely, "But I've seen them together at the library _all_ the time!" She stopped patting him on the back and cradled him faceplate-up in her arms. Slowly, yet surely, Smokescreen was calming down. "This little guy is in the newspark input program there, I know because- OH!" and she immediately slapped a servo to her mouthplate. "I'm sorry," she wailed, "I'm not supposed to say this stuff." She leaned into Breakdown's personal space and whispered, "Not here anyway. It's _totally anonymous_ here, don't worry."

"Sure," Breakdown said, shifting himself. He returned to filling out the form, but kept glancing back at the femme as she whispered and cooed at Smokescreen. What a strange bot. 

"If you want,” the femme suggested, “You can give us your comm-link temporarily so we can contact you when your friend is ready to leave so you can go home and rest.” 

"I'm not leaving," Breakdown insisted. "Not without him."

"It may take joors though," the femme clarified. "Usually he gives me an estimate of how long a procedure will take. He didn't, so it's going to take awhile-"

"Don't care," Breakdown interrupted. "We're not going anywhere."

"Okay..." the femme replied, gently swaying Smokescreen. "But it could be all night, it could take longer than a day-”

“Doesn’t bother me any,” he said. No, there wasn’t any way the anxiety of not knowing what would happen to Knock Out would even let him return home. He’d feel too guilty if something did happen. Primus, don’t think of that, he scolded himself. 

“Well, you’re welcome to wait here,” the femme said quietly as Breakdown continued to fill in what little details he knew of Knock Out.

“Here,” Breakdown said, shoving the datapad back. She took it in a free servo and made a move to offer back Smokescreen but Breakdown held up a servo.

"If you like him, you can keep him for a bit," Breakdown said. He folded his arms and leaned back in his seat. "I'm beat from work and I ran all the way here from... well, far away. Maybe I'll power down for a few."

"Well, we don't really have a place for you to lay down," the femme said.

"I'm fine. I'm good here," Breakdown replied. 

"I know, come with me!" With energy, the femme bounded to her pedes, Smokescreen in her arms, and motioned for Breakdown to follow her through the doors into the reception area. 

Taken aback, Breakdown pushed himself out of his seat and warily followed her. In the back room, he could take a look down the hall where they had taken Knock Out. There were about three rooms and another door at the end of the hall, but when he made a step to go take a look, the femme said:

“This way!” So Breakdown followed her through a locked door and up some stairs into a suite.

He was in somebot’s house. Breakdown hadn’t taken much note of the building this back-alley medic’s office was in, but only now did he realise it was literally somebot’s basement. 

“Up here!” The femme was now leading him up more stairs to another floor. 

Rounding the corner, she led him into a dark berthroom.

"You can stay in my room!” she announced with a broad gesture. “I’m going to be working downstairs at the clinic,” she explained. “I’ll come get you when your friend is ready to leave!”

This femme was crazy. Breakdown couldn’t believe she was leading some stranger she had just met into her own berthroom and offering for him to power down in her very own berth. Had she no common sense?

But then Bulkhead had told him the very same thing when he had allowed Knock Out to stay at his place alone the first time they had met while Breakdown went off to work. ‘He’s going to steal everything! You can’t trust seekers!’ Bulkhead had insisted. But Knock Out had left his home untouched.

“You sure about this?” Breakdown asked, exploring the room. There were datascrolls on a shelf and not a whole lot else. Apparently being a medic’s assistant didn’t pay a whole lot. 

“Absolutely!” the femme insisted, dashing past him and flicking on the light by the berth. “And I can keep a watch on this little cutie while you nap!”

Breakdown watched as she opened a closet with one servo (Smokescreen was in the other) and pulled out a shopping crate. Before Breakdown could even see what was in the box, Smokescreen emitted a delighted sound. 

“What’s that?” Breakdown asked, stomping forwards to take a look.

“Newspark toys!” the femme said, looking up at Breakdown as she knelt in front of the box. “Brand new too- aren’t you lucky?” she laughed, picking up a newspark datapad and handing it to Smokescreen who grabbed it instantly. “I bought them for… um, for the clinic.” She placed Smokescreen down on the floor in front of her and watched as Smokescreen sat and began scanning all the data in the new datapad. She sounded oddly sullen when she said, “We, uh, we get newsparks that need to be entertained while their sires wait for hours…” but then she burst into energy when she said, “Just like you!” and scooped Smokescreen up who let out another delightful sound.

She carried Smokescreen in one arm, the crate in the other and headed to the door. “Just try to get some rest,” she told Breakdown. “He’s fixed worse than missing t-cogs,” she added.

“Thanks,” Breakdown said. “But I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not!” the femme assured.

“You do this often?” Breakdown asked, “Invite strangers to your room?” Only after he said it did he realise it may have come across as flirting and he silently reamed himself for it.

But the femme laughed, putting him at ease. “No, I don’t! But what can I say,” she sighed, looking down again at Smokescreen who was now fully engrossed in his datapad. “Somehow, I feel drawn to this little guy so I’m only too happy to help his sires!”

“Oh, uh,” Breakdown flustered by the (correct) insinuation between himself and Knock Out, “I’m, uh, I’m not-” he started to deny.

“Bye!!” and the femme dashed out of the room and he could hear the sounds of her pedes pattering down the stairs back to the clinic below. 

Left alone and the rush of speaking to such an energetic bot defusing, Breakdown felt the wave of exhaustion hit him. Casting a look around the dim room, he made his way over to the berth and after a moment's hesitation, laid down and turned off the light.

The only sound was that of the rain splattering the glass window above him. It was coming down even harder now, added by the powerful sounds of high winds. With nothing else to distract him, stress instantly seized his processor.

Knock Out had spoken of changing himself before, but Breakdown had never imagined he would actually do it- at least not on his own! And now, with only a floor between them, Knock Out was being operated on to save his life. Panic seized Breakdown when he realised if he hadn’t come home when he did, if he had gone somewhere with Bulkhead, he very might as well discovered Knock Out…

They had known each other for a few groons now and already Breakdown couldn’t bare the thought of not having Knock Out in his life. Every time he came home from work, or Knock Out returned from studying with his buddy at the library, Breakdown could literally just feel his spark intensify.

And it wasn’t like they were sparkmates or anything crazy like that. It was just that feeling, the aura, he felt whenever Knock Out was around. He felt it seize him just watching Knock Out, even when he wasn’t aware of it. When he powered down next to Breakdown, or walked, or worked at a computer or even just sat and stared at the screen watching gladiator battles. Whatever that feeling was, Breakdown felt it more strongly every day. 

Yeah, okay, so it was love. Of course it was. It wasn’t like they hadn’t told each other that already. Knock Out had said it first, Breakdown felt he had probably been ready to admit it first. But he hadn’t said anything in fear that he’d scare Knock Out away. It had certainly surprised Breakdown when Knock Out had said it. 

Because Knock Out was so flighty, whether he admitted it or not. He could assure Breakdown that he was committed, but at the same time he would turn around shamelessly flirt with his study partner to get him to do his work. Breakdown didn’t understand it. For that reason, he always feared losing Knock Out. He was an intense kind of guy, but at the same time, intensity seemed to frighten him.

But it was Knock Out’s intensity that had first drawn in Breakdown. The moment he had walked into the room, he felt it, then he saw him. The bright red bot on the other side of the room and when they finally locked optics… It was like if Primus himself was drawing them together. Those deep, penetrating, luring, red optics...

Okay, okay, calm down, Breakdown told himself, feeling flushed. This isn’t the time or the place, he reprimanded himself. 

So to distract himself, he looked to his left and saw a few image cards in frames on the femme’s berthstand. Two images shared a frame, they were of her and some bot. A little shorter than her, and both done up to the nines. They looked like they had been at some party based on the bots in the background. The two had giant smiles on their faces. 

In the other image card, it was her and the short medic. They didn’t look intimate like she did with the red and blue bot. But they definitely looked familiar with each other. Maybe they both lived here. That made sense if he, and not the tall winged medic, was the medic here and she his assistant. 

It wasn’t until then that Breakdown realise he had forgotten to ask for her name. Not that he ever intended to contact her again after he took Knock Out home, just more out of a sense of politeness. Especially since she had been so generous to him, a stranger. 

Not entirely a stranger. At least, that’s what she alluded to, that she had seen both Smokescreen and Knock Out at the Iacon Hall of Records before. Well, at least Smokescreen was in good servos while Breakdown rested.

And as Breakdown forced his frame to relax and slip into a power down where time would go by, his thoughts immediately jumped back to Knock Out. Maybe they ought to take some images of themselves, like this femme had. That was something to look forwards to after this whole disaster. Breakdown tried to imagine this instead of Knock Out downstairs, bleeding himself to death. 

No, Breakdown absolutely could not imagine himself without Knock Out. Maybe this was the push Breakdown needed to realise that. And the more he thought of this, the more he felt a force of confidence. A confidence that affirmed to him that perhaps, still so early in his life, maybe Breakdown had found his future _conjux endura_.

Maybe he’d ask him. 

Yeah. Maybe after all this, he’d tell Knock Out all of this and they’d take that final step and commit themselves to each other. 

That’d be great.

It was this comforting thought, aided by the constant patter of rain, that carried Breakdown into power down as he excitedly prepared his ideal approach in asking Knock Out if he too would partake in the perfect future and become sparkmates. Yes, Breakdown could just see it in Knock Out's optics. Those brilliant, enchanting and loving optics of his...


	12. The Gang's All Here |&| The Gang Was All There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's back! But he's not the only one returning to Cybertron!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many kind thanks to my commenters, rebloggers and those that hit the kudos/like button<3

It was that optic. 

That brilliant, enchanting and loving optic that slowly fluttered open, allowing that soft yellow glow to once again come to life. Although, in this case, it looked heavily drugged.

Stepping forwards, Knock Out slid Breakdown's chassis closed. In doing so, sealing the sparkchamber back where it belonged.

“Knock… Out..?” Breakdown attempted to speak again. “Wh-wha…. who’s tha…” and he hung his helm from exhaustion, his optic hanging half open.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Knock Out said. He hopped off the stool and checked Breakdown's vitals. He was sustaining perfectly. Yes, his spark was slowly, but with every pulse, returning to a regulated pattern.

He had done it. 

Breakdown, the sparkmate he had thought dead, was _alive_. Knock Out felt weak in the knee joints, like he was just going to collapse out of shock and relief. After all the mourning and drinking and searing pain tormenting him, having thought he had forever lost the love of his million years lifespan, and now he had him back.

Knock Out had been so enrapt at the sight of his sparkmate resuscitating that he did not notice the other two bots in the room slip out. No, all Knock Out could do was stare at Breakdown as if he had to continually remind himself this was real. He never thought he'd see Breakdown on that medslab again. No, for orns it had been Cylas strapped to that table, yelling and emoting with Breakdown's frame and faceplate. Knock Out had so forcibly adjusted to it overtime that staring now at Breakdown's frame in the horrid and scarred state it was in, well, it took some convincing that this was now _his_ Breakdown again.

Dashing to a drawer, Knock Out fetched a small tool kit and a fresh optic patch.

Breakdown's optic was still missing. Ever since this frame had returned inhabited by the human, Silas, the optic patch had been removed and was now a blown hollow hole in Breakdown's faceplate. This patch would make him look less like Cylas and more like himself again.

Breakdown stirred as Knock Out began working on applying the patch. His optics kept darting back to Breakdown's face who still looked completely out of it. His optic looked down and slowly swept the room he was in. Finally, he looked up at Knock Out and within that instant, Knock Out felt his spark throb against his sparkchamber. Seeing that face, as scuffed and drugged up as it was, it put a true smile on Knock Out's faceplate.

"Wakey-wakey," he sang softly, giving his sparkmate a sprightly look.

He felt Breakdown exude a long, heavy vent of air.

"I don't feel so good," he said.

"I'm not surprised," Knock Out said. He couldn't keep the smile off his faceplate. He would take Breakdown 'not feeling well' over 'dead' any day. "But I'll have you up and running in no time!"

Slowly, Breakdown started to recuperate his strength while Knock Out continually checked his stats and increased the flow of energon still being pumped into his frame. The more energon flowed into Breakdown, the more alert he became. 

"Think you can get up, big guy?" Knock Out asked. He began to pull the cords off of Breakdown. He was eager to have Breakdown back to his usual self, a small paranoid voice inside him still said that everything could go wrong in a klick.

But with a great push, Breakdown heaved himself off the medslab. On his pedes, he wavered slightly, looking dizzy. But he then stretched, standing tall with his shoulders rolled back.

"I feel like I've been powered down for vorns," he said, his vocaliser rough and gravely.

"A regular sleeping beauty, indeed," Knock Out said, scruitinising every movement. "But how do you feel..?"

"Better," Breakdown said. He hunched himself over, looking exhausted. "I know I just got up, but I feel like I wanna crash again."

"Well before you do that, let's get some of this grit cleaned off before you return to our suite." And reaching out, Knock Out took Breakdown's servo.

Without saying anything and still looking somewhat delirious, Breakdown followed Knock Out's lead into the medbay's rinse room. Knock Out turned on one of the showers and pulled out a hose from the wall and began to rinse him down. Then grabbing a bristled brush, he began scrubbing.

"Lucky you," Knock Out said teasingly in hopes of getting Breakdown to engage more. "Me scrubbing you for a change!" 

Breakdown's silence unnerved Knock Out and he wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe it was that continued nagging feeling that somehow Breakdown could collapse at the drop of a rivet, or maybe it was knowing that Breakdown was choosing to say nothing instead of his usual arsenal of banter and puns.

"Gorgeous!" Knock Out boasted of his sparkmate, when he was satisfied with Breakdown's condition. Back to his usual scuffy self, Breakdown no longer looked like he had when he had been inhabited by Silas. "My mate does need to uphold a certain standard to keep up with this," and he brushed his servo against himself confidently.

As soon as Knock Out shut off the water, Breakdown shook his massive frame, spraying water everywhere, including on Knock Out.

"Watch it!" Knock Out cried, half alarmed, half in jest. But to his disappointment, Breakdown did not laugh nor did he scoop him into a big grab. He didn't even turn to look at Knock Out. He just stood there. Tentatively, Knock Out circled Breakdown and stood before him. 

"Breakdown?" he asked, hesitant. "What's wrong?"

Breakdown stared at the floor long and hard before lifting his helm. "What happened to me?" he asked.

Knock Out hesitated. "Maybe we should discuss this back in our suite."

Breakdown frowned. "Why?"

"Because, my pet," Knock Out sighed, "A lot has happened during your absence and it might be more than a little overwhelming."

Finally, Breakdown had returned from his mission assigned by Megatron. Knock Out had to remind himself that, to Breakdown, he had just awoken and most likely thought it to be the same day. The world was just as he left it. But those doors to their shared suite had not parted for him since then and they now welcomed him back, revealing the state of the suite as the first hint that all was not what it seemed.

"What happened in here?" Breakdown alarmed when he explored their suite. There were private datascrolls and empty canisters of hi-grade all around. Neither had Knock Out cleaned up any of the shattered glasses he had destroyed during rageful tantrums either. "You had some kind of a party?!" Breakdown asked, aghast. 

Then Breakdown entered his room.

“What the _frag_ ,” Breakdown swore. 

It was the centre of the storm. Knock Out's bottles of hi-grade were astrewn everywhere, along with other items best stowed in the berthstand. 

Breakdown started to weave his way through his room, trying not to step on any hi-grade canisters. “What the frag happened in here,” he swore again. He then gestured to the toys, “And these? You trying to get back at me or something with some other bot?” Standing in the middle of the room, he reached down and lifted up a canister. “Or is this is all you?” he demanded.

Knock Out stared at the bottle. Funny, how he ever noticed how many there actually were. It was always just one and one more and then another one all within the moment of his grief. Stressed, but unwilling to show it, Knock Out folded his arms and leaned on the doorway in stubborn confidence. 

“A party of one,” he admitted.

Breakdown stared at the chaos. “Knock Out, you’re a _mess_.”

He felt himself deflate inside. He hoped it wasn’t showing, but that sentence ripped at his spark. For the first time, he could see the room as Breakdown now saw it. As Arcee had probably seen it, and Knock Out felt himself ashamed. 

When he didn't respond, Breakdown roughly slammed an empty canister on the computer table. "You drink too much."

"Only when my sparkmate dies,” Knock Out countered defensively.

This grabbed Breakdown’s attention. “What?” he asked.

But Knock Out pulled out of the doorway. Well, Breakdown had to know eventually, right?

“Hey!” Breakdown stomped after him. “What’d you say? You thought I was _dead?_ ”

Knock Out had made his way to his own berthroom’s doorway when Breakdown confronted him. He whipped around and said, “Frag, Breakdown. You were dead.”

“I’m not dead,” Breakdown said.

“I just hauled your frame from the morgue,” Knock Out hissed.

“I was dead?” Breakdown said, more weakly.

Knock Out felt his entire frame tense, he realised that he would have to relive the story at least one more time.

“You never came back from your mission with Dreadwing, _orns ago_. Instead of killing Airachnid, she ripped out your sparkchamber and hid it. I was told you were dead.” Knock Out's vocaliser was low but threatening for he felt haunted by the memory. Even with Breakdown back and standing in front of him, the memories gripped at him, forcing him to remember those desolate nights, drowning his grief with hi-grade. He clenched his servos as tightly as he could as if it would help him retain his strength. “Your signal went offline," Knock Out continued as stoically as he could, "and when we found your body... well, you were dead.” He decided to skip the whole Cylas thing for the time being, that might be a little too much for Breakdown to deal with all at once.

Breakdown looked like all the energon had drained out of his faceplate. He stumbled towards the main suite’s bench and hunkered down. Knock Out hesitated but he seated himself next to Breakdown. Couldn't Breakdown just get over it and they could go back to being together again?

Breakdown shook his helm. “I need some energon,” he said, looking ill.

Knock Out nodded and headed to the bar. “Hi-grade?” he asked.

“No,” Breakdown said almost too firmly. Knock Out caught a shiver run through his frame. He began to wring his servos. “I… I don’t know what I remember last… It was dark… like a dark forest or something. But... it feels like it happened a long time ago.”

“You were supposed to kill Airachnid,” Knock Out explained, pouring Breakdown’s drink from the tap. “You don’t remember what happened, do you?” 

“No, I mean yeah,” Breakdown rubbed his helm. He sounded strained. “Yeah, I remember. She pissed me off. She made some dumb comments about us- about _me_. ‘Eye to eye’, ‘patch’ or something… cos we're, you know...”

Knock Out frowned, attempting to keep an amused smile off his faceplate. “You, uh, you sure she wasn’t talking about the uh…”

“The what?” Breakdown grunted, turning to look at him.

Knock Out tapped his own optic. “The patch on your optic,” he said.

“No,” Breakdown said roughly, turning away. “She knew what she was saying. She was talking about you and me being together. Toying with us again. The glitch."

Knock Out carried the glass of energon and one for himself over to Breakdown. In one large swig, Breakdown downed the entire glass. Venting loudly, he rested his arms on his legs and shut his optic. Knock Out offered him his own glass and he took it with a nod, this time drinking it slowly.

"Did she say much else?" Knock Out asked quietly, watching Breakdown drink.

"Huh?" Breakdown said, clearly distracted by his thoughts. "I don't know, why?"

"Because she killed you," Knock Out, irritability rising. "Airachnid tore you to shreds and ripped off your helm. Then before your spark could collapse, she ripped out your sparkchamber and stashed it in the Shadowzone." He held his gaze, but he could see the shock and horror in Breakdown's faceplate. "Why would she do that?"

Breakdown attempted to speak but failed a few times. "The _what_ zone?" he eventually asked.

But that wasn't what Knock Out wanted to hear. "Why?" he demanded. "Why would she save your spark when she's slain countless others?" 

"I don't know!" Breakdown pulled back, taking another nervous sip of his drink.

"Well did she say anything to you?" Knock Out insisted, clenching and unclenching his clawed digits. "Like maybe when the two of you fragged behind my back?"

Breakdown's faceplate tinged from embarrassment. "Come on, Knock Out. We didn't, uh, we didn't exactly do a lot of talking..."

"Well," Knock Out announced, "She told _me_ a few things!" Restless, Knock Out rose to his pedes. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic again, so to keep his ground, he locked his optics with Breakdown's and said, "For instance, she told me you said you liked femmes best."

Breakdown stared at the floor.

"She told me..." he continued, feeling an uncomfortable surging feeling in his chassis, "You lost your lust for me. Your _love_ of m-"

"Now _that's_ not true," Breakdown's booming voice shook Knock Out. Breakdown rose to his pedes. "Don't tell me you believe this scrap? I told you before I left- she's a lying glitch, Knock Out. She just tried to mess with us." His anger subsided and he started to fluster. "I'll kill her," he insisted, "This time on the Nemesis where she doesn't have any advantages. I'll kill her for you babe, just like I did to-"

"She isn't onboard," Knock Out drawled, servos on hips. He was still unable to look at Breakdown.

"Huh?" Breakdown asked. "Where is she then? I'll hunt her down!"

"Oh, don't over excite yourself," Knock Out drawled with a sneer. "She's long gone."

"Hnf." Breakdown snorted and aggressively rolled his shoulders. "All for the better. I'd rip all those limbs off and stuff 'em in her lying mouth. I'd make her beg for mercy."

"I'm told you already did," Knock Out retorted, inspecting his claws. "She was quite vivid in her re-account of your time with her."

Breakdown immediately flushed and recomposed himself out of embarrassment. Hopefully shame too. "Knock Out, I made a mistake." He settled back down onto the bench. His vocaliser was quiet, "I don't give a scrap about her, I never did. I don't know why she kept my spark. I didn't even do it with her more than a few-"

He might as well smacked Knock Out across the faceplate. 

" _What?_ " Knock Out's optics blazed and his claws curled in a rush of rage.

Breakdown froze, the realisation of his slip-up dawned on him. "Look, it's over-"

"You fragged Airachnid _more than once?_ " Knock Out felt like his spark had just been ripped out all over again. "Well! You certainly neglected to tell me that!"

Breakdown took another long sip of energon. "I messed up," he said feebly. 

"Did you boast to your fellow vehicons about it too?" Knock Out snarled. He gripped the back of the bench so tightly, his claws pierced into the metal. "Did you boast of being the first to frag the new femme on board while neglecting to tell them you're also banging the ship's medic on the side?!"

"I'm not ashamed of being dual," Breakdown said quietly. "I'll find her. I'll kill her for you. Anything, Knock Out."

"No," Knock Out replied, disgusted. "She might actually kill you."

"I just woke up," Breakdown said tersely. He took another sip and sat back down. "You said we could go on a drive." 

Knock Out felt the anger in himself slowly dissipate. No, this isn't what he wanted either. After all those orns of hiding in Breakdown's room as a means to be closer to his conjunx endura that he was positive was dead... No, he didn't suffer all that, join the Autobots, be tortured by Airachnid, fight vampire insecticons and delve into the Shadowzone just to yell at Breakdown and recharge in separate berths. 

But it had built up inside him all that time too, made worse by Airachnid's torture and ridicule that he couldn't keep it inside any longer.

"It may have felt like a nap for you, but it's been a waking nightmare for me," Knock Out admitted, a servo on his waist as he slowly composed himself. "I blamed you for your own death because it was easier to hate you dead than love you and know you were gone from my life forever." They stared at one another. "I loathe what you did to us, allowing some strange femme to come between us in the most intimate of ways, but even when I hated you, even _then_ , I still wanted you back more than anything in the entire universe, Breakdown. You... are _so_ important to me." Breakdown did not even shutter, and the longer Knock Out looked into his lover's optic, the more he felt himself succumb. Knock Out attempted a small smile, "Breakdown, you wouldn't believe what I've been through to have you back."

He felt a familiar feeling stir within him when he watched Breakdown look his entire frame up and down. 

"I think I have an idea," Breakdown said. "Is this what you look like when you don't have me around to buff you?" and he gestured at Knock Out's frame.

Looking down at himself, he saw his beautiful frame marred with scratches and dents. The last time he had buffed himself was, well, right before he had attended the memorial with the other bots. His collection of markings from his adventure to Luna 2 and into the Shadowzone and back were all on display, he was still even wearing Ratchet's healing patch covering his cracked chassis. Aghast at his condition, Knock Out fled into his room to fetch his favourite buffer.

Upon returning, Breakdown took it from him with a grin and he settled down on bench, ready to experience something he was long overdue for.

With the first simple stroke of the buffer gliding over Knock Out's shoulder plating, he felt himself melt. He was absolute liquid metal at Breakdown's mercy. Knock Out felt his optics slowly roll back and shut as Breakdown masterfully wielded the buffer over and over Knock Out's back shoulder plating.

 _Pure ecstasy_. He flexed his digits over and over, feeling the light, soft strokes of the whirling buffer glide against him. He could barely contain his pleasure. It had been so long ago since he had felt this way. It wasn't the same when Knock Out detailed himself. It was a difficult, bothersome chore.

But this pampered intoxication consumed him. He leaned into the soft touch of the brush and let out a slow sigh. He was becoming so overwhelmed that he had to fight to stop his engine from purring loudly.

Although Breakdown's soft chuckles broke his thoughts, he absolutely drowned himself in the sound. That low sound of Breakdown's vocaliser was music to his audios.

"You miss this?" Breakdown asked, rolling the buffer lower down his back.

To appropriately answer, Knock Out slipped himself onto Breakdown’s lap facing him, a leg on either side. Knock Out leaned into his large chassis that he admired so ardently.

He smirked and tapped his front headlights. "Didn’t you miss _this?_ ” he purred deeply. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking about my frame from the moment you woke up.” Knock Out skimmed his sharp digits lightly along Breakdown’s side.

With his other servo, Knock Out touched one delicate digit underneath Breakdown’s chinguard. Directing Breakdown’s attention onto himself, he made sure to provide the most seductive look he could concoct.

“Breakdown,” he nearly sang, “it’s been far, _far_ too long.”

That lone yellow optic looked into his, both of them enchanted by the other.

Breakdown whispered, “You’re stunning.”

The thrill of a compliment coursed through Knock Out and he felt himself radiate with confidence.

“Stunning with nobot to frag while you’ve been gone,” he mourned flirtatiously. He now ran his digits teasingly on the waistline of Breakdown’s lower plating.

But Breakdown seemed to hesitate as he looked his lover up and down. “Nobot?”

“I’ve been so lonely without you,” Knock Out continued overly-dramatic, “my toys pale in comparison to what you can offer me.” He lightly dipped his helm downwards to indicate what he was speaking about. “So how about it?” he asked allowing his vocaliser to drop into a seductive tone. “Would you care to remind me just exactly what you’re capable of?”

"What about Starscream?" Breakdown asked while admiring Knock Out's frame.

Knock Out shook his helm a slow ‘no’. With a sharp digit, he lifted Breakdown's chinguard to meet his luring gaze.

"Don't believe it," Breakdown said gruffly, "Not Starscream? Not Dreadwing? Damn beautiful and single, I bet everybot wanted to get with you first with me out of the way."

Knock Out leaned in close, so close that their mouthplate's nearly touched. But he kept that gorgeous yellow optic locked into his own. "I've wanted nobot but you."

Not allowing Breakdown time to respond, Knock Out leaned forwards, tipping Breakdown’s helm and kissed him slowly. This was their first kiss since that night, so many nights ago when they had interfaced as a way to fix the tear in their relationship. Knock Out felt himself swell with emotion and soon it overpowered him. He leaned into the kiss more and more, desperately not wanting to part as if he did, this would all be but another one of his nightmares and Breakdown would be dead again. The intense passion of it stirred Breakdown and he shifted as if to end the kiss but Knock Out, greedily, would not let him.

Instead, he widened his mouthplate, gently exploring his lover with his own glossa. Beneath him, Breakdown relaxed. As they kissed, Knock Out began to run his digits on the outskirts of Breakdown’s lower plating. He felt Breakdown react, his servos resting on Knock Out’s aft, lightly skimming him back and forth. Knock Out arched into the touch playfully and felt the biolights on his back intensify from being so aroused. Before they parted their kiss, Knock Out gently pressed his denta against Breakdown’s mouthplate, a teasing bite.

“How’d I end up with a hot racecar like you?” Breakdown finally said, his servos searching for Knock Out’s back biolights to stroke.

“You're pretty easy on the optics yourself,” Knock Out replied, his vocaliser rich with seduction. “Now why don't you take me out for a spin,” he said with a wink. “Let me show you just how I handle.”

With that comment, Breakdown pulled him aggressively against himself and forcefully thrust his glossa into Knock Out. Unable to hold back within the moment, Knock Out pursued this kiss, allowing his servos to explore a part of Breakdown that he had longed for many a lonely night.

Gasping in shock from the touch, Breakdown forced Knock Out closer yet and encouraged him to continue by groaning through their kisses. Pleased by this reaction, Knock Out pulled from their kiss and began to nibble on his lover’s pipes.

Breakdown moaned again from the thrill. “Knock Out,” he breathed, “No bot's got nothing on you."

"I'm one of a kind and don't you dare forget it," Knock Out whispered dangerously, allowing his venting air from his mouthplate to tickle around Breakdown's pipes, causing him to shudder.

It was that kind of control, knowing he had that power over Breakdown, that fueled Knock Out's passion even more. This, _this_ was a game and a _fun_ one at that. Being able to manipulate Breakdown's desire only by his own good looks and cultivated skill made Knock Out feel alive again- just like his old self. This was unlike anything he had felt since Breakdown's 'death'. They complimented one another, and Knock Out knew this. No, they _needed_ one another. What they gave and received could only be fulfilled by each other.

Being so aroused, he began to heat up behind his lower plating. So Knock Out began to kiss more along Breakdown's pipes, allowing his servo to find a rhythm that appropriately altered Breakdown's venting. The more he did this, the tighter Breakdown wrapped his arms around his frame.

"You’re too good," Breakdown huffed and seized Knock Out roughly, exactly the way he liked it. He wasn't even able push away playfully when Breakdown came down on his pipes, returning the kisses through his heavier and heavier venting. Going lower and lower down his pipes, and onto his shiny chassis and...

Breakdown stopped.

“What’s _that?_ ” he said.

Knock Out didn’t stop his up and down motion of his servo. Instead, he chuckled deviously, “Has it been that long? I thought you’d remember this…”

“No,” and much to Knock Out’s shock, Breakdown pushed Knock Out away from him. Immediately, Breakdown transformed his arousal away, indicating that whatever had him so perturbed, it was going to hinder their reunion party.

“Breakdown, honestly…”

But Breakdown cut him off. “What. Is. _That?_ ” and he thrust a digit straight at…

“Oh.” Knock Out said, “That.”

Looking down, Knock Out stared at where Breakdown had pointed to and that… was the little Autobrand embellished onto the centre of Knock Out's chassis.

"Is that an _Autobot_ logo?" Breakdown was bewildered.

"Uh..." Knock Out wasn't sure what to say. Clearly, _very clearly_ , it was. 

"What are you playing at, Knock Out?" Breakdown demanded. "If Megatron sees that, he's going to turn you to scrap."

Knock Out cringed. He hadn't exactly had the time to consider how to breach this subject with Breakdown. "Megatron... isn't exactly something we need to worry about anymore..." he began but Breakdown stood up causing Knock Out to fall to the ground, landing on his aft with a _thunk_. 

“What’s going on here?” he growled. "What do you mean Megatron isn't in charge anymore?" and without waiting for a response, Breakdown stomped towards the door.

“Breakdown, get back here!” Knock Out admonished. But when Breakdown exited the room and Knock Out realised he wasn't going to listen, he hoisted himself off the ground and dashed after him.

Breakdown was already halfway down the hall. "Where are all the vehicons?" he shouted. "Why isn't anybot on duty?"

"Come back!" Knock Out called. He panicked when he noticed Breakdown approaching a crossroad for one of the areas where Knock Out had restricted access. Breakdown could go down the hall to the left, but Knock Out wouldn't be able to.

"Breakdown!" he shouted, running to catch up. As he did, they heard a distant voice.

“Where did he go?!” came a bot’s voice trailing from around the corner.

“He's not in his suite” came another bot’s voice. “I don't know where else he'd be on this ship!”

“Who is that?” Breakdown asked suspiciously. “That doesn’t sound like any vehicon I know.”

“Breakdown,” Knock Out grabbed onto Breakdown’s arm desperately. “Let’s go back to our suite and I’ll explain-” But hardly looking at him, Breakdown yanked his arm out of Knock Out’s grasp and rounded the corner. Knock Out chased after. “You're not listening to me!”

“How can nobot know where the kid ran off to? We've got a bunch of bots waiting outside now with no leader.”

“Maybe he used the spacebridge? He could be anywhere..."

Breakdown and Knock Out rounded the corner and… came face to face with Wheeljack and Smokescreen.

Everybot was shocked to see the other. Nobot spoke, but only stared, each bot attempting to process who and what they were seeing. Finally, it was Wheeljack who broke the silence.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” He went right for the blunt approach.

Caught off guard, Breakdown looked from him to the young mech next to him, then back again as if he couldn’t decide who he was more surprised to see and who to address. But the comment eventually sunk in and Breakdown shot Wheeljack a deadly look.

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” and his servo transformed into his hammer as he readied himself or a fight.

Immediately, Knock Out slid in front of him, just the motion alone indicated to Breakdown that he should not engage the 'enemy Autobot'. 

"Does Bumblebee know about him?" and Knock Out was shocked that Wheeljack was actually addressing him. 

"I..." Knock Out began, but he was distracted by Breakdown and Smokescreen. 

They were just staring at each other. 

Smokescreen knew who Breakdown was. After sending him the little box of 'insurance' containing all the home videos and images of the three of them pre-war, Smokescreen definitely had to know that his 'yellow optics' memory was Breakdown and not some fictitious Autobot hero. Yes, Knock Out could see it. He caught it glimmer on Smokescreen's faceplate. He recognised Breakdown. 

But did Breakdown know who he was looking at?

"Not sure if you're aware of this, Knock Out," Wheeljack interrupted, "but the funny thing about _probation_ is it usually hinders you from inviting house guests unannounced. You," he gestured to Breakdown, "I'm taking you to the prisons until we can find our child-like leader."

Breakdown instantly puffed himself up in defiance. "Me?! Who the scrap do you think you are! _You're_ the 'uninvited guest' you-"

" _Breakdown_ here is perfectly sanctioned by the powers that be!" Knock Out cut in. He patted Breakdown on his large chassis, knowing it would settle him.

"Since when?" Wheeljack asked. "Who gave that command? Was it Bee?"

"I believe Arcee has all the answers," Knock Out said slickly.

Wheeljack made a rude sound. "She has no say in who-"

"And Ratchet." Knock Out smirked.

This silenced Wheeljack and the two bots just stared contempt at one another.

Finally, Wheeljack said, "Was he on the ship too? I never saw you disembark." Knock Out had no idea what Wheeljack was referring to. "I don't care if she says they're staying neutral, you," and he gestured to Breakdown, "chose the 'cons and no 'con can join us without a trial held by _all_ of us. _He_ doesn't have the _Prime_ to speak on his behalf." 

Internally, Knock Out was furious. He wanted to strike out at Wheeljack, he absolutely despised this bot and would never forgive him for what he had done in the past. But without Breakdown to reign in his rage as he was unaware of his festering anger, Knock Out had to rely on himself to keep his anger in check. He tightly clenched his servos and released them, brandishing a false grin.

"Then when the time comes, you know where to find us," Knock Out said as cooly as he could.

"No, actually." Wheeljack took a step towards him. "I don't."

He fought to keep the smirk on his faceplate. "My suite," he said through gritted dentae. 

It was the sound of Breakdown's hammer transforming back into his servo that broke the staring match between the two mechs.

"I'll be speaking with Arcee and Ratchet about this," Wheeljack said, "and Bumblebee. _Everybot_ will get a say if backstabber here gets to walk around like a free bird."

"Well," Knock Out said, his vocaliser positively dripping in false sweetness. "An actual trial would certainly be an improvement from last time, wouldn't it?"

Wheeljack exuded a huff of vented air. "Come on," he said, motioning to Smokescreen. "Bumblebee has a lot of explaining to do!" Wheeljack had turned to leave when he noticed Smokescreen had made no move to follow. He was still staring at Breakdown. "What are you looking at? I said haul aft!" and Wheeljack grabbed Smokescreen by one of his doors to twirl him around and head down the restricted corridor.

Smokescreen followed Wheeljack, but he looked one last time over his shoulder plating at Breakdown. His optics then darted to Knock Out who stared back, his own expression too complex for Smokescreen to ever interpret. Clearly, he still intimidated his heir, for Smokescreen immediately turned back around, following Wheeljack.

"'Backstabber', indeed," Knock Out said with a snarl, "correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't the one holding the dagger the one who does the stabbing? And his servos are covered in energon." He looked up at Breakdown whose expression vividly shared his sentiments. Looping his arm around Breakdown's, Knock Out guided him back the way they came. 

"What's going on here?" was the first thing Breakdown said when the doors of their suite closed behind them. "What's Wheeljack doing here? Why are they in charge? Why do you answer to _Autobots?_ "

Knock Out rubbed the back of his helm anxiously. He opened his mouth to respond, but Breakdown said:

"And... is it just me or did that bot look like..."

Knock Out looked away. This was another subject he hadn't prepared either. "Yes," he said.

"It's not just me?" Breakdown asked.

"No," Knock Out replied.

"But it isn't," Breakdown insisted.

"Yes," Knock Out answered.

"Wait, what?" Breakdown froze. "What do you mean?" he pursued when Knock Out didn't answer him. "Are you saying that's..."

"It is." 

"You found him." Breakdown's shoulders dropped as he let go of his tension.

"Something like that," Knock Out muttered.

Breakdown's single optic was wide with disbelief. "He's alive!?"

"Apparently so," Knock Out strode over to the bar instinctively but refused to pour himself some hi-grade.

"H-how, when?" Breakdown was starting to stalk around the room with new energy. "What's he like? He's blue now! Like me! Oh scrap... you guys thought I was dead- no wonder he was staring at me like that. I... must have just missed him, huh?"

Knock Out felt seized with apprehension. "Smokescreen was in stasis, Breakdown," he began. "He was captured during the final bombings of Iacon, not killed. He escaped and awoke during the final days of the war- or so I've been told."

"That's- wait, final days?" Breakdown came to a stand still and Knock Out could see understanding dawn on him. "The Autobots won? That's why our ship is crawling with them. Why Megatron isn't in charge and why you-"

He stared straight on that spot on his chassis from across the room. Right at the Autobrand.

"So Megatron is dead?" Breakdown asked.

"No," Knock Out replied, not looking at him. "But he lost. All the Decepticons have fled or are in prisons on the ship below."

"Except you."

Knock Out nodded.

"Why?" Breakdown asked suspiciously. "He said you're on probation or something."

"It was either that or be imprisoned with no rights," Knock Out lied. He wasn't going to bring up the other choice Optimus Prime had offered him, of choosing neutrality, at least not yet. He was already overwhelmed in everything he needed to have Breakdown catch up on.

"You volunteered to switch sides? Become an _Autobot?_ " Breakdown sounded nearly betrayed.

"'Anything to survive'!" Knock Out said, "Hasn't that always been our motto?"

"But Autobots?" Breakdown repeated, absolutely bewildered. "Knock Out, they've _done_ scrap to us."

Knock Out lifted a brow ridge. "And so have the Decepticons, in case you've forgotten."

But Breakdown shook his helm and startled to stalk around the suite. "This is a new low, even for us," he said. "And Bulkhead is here, isn't he?" He didn't wait for Knock Out to answer. "Wheeljack too, never thought I'd see his traitorous face again. You _know_ what he did to me and you expect me to be on the same side as him? As any _Wrecker?_ " He huffed in defiance. "No, we should get out of here while we can."

Knock Out watched his sparkmate pace with hostility. He carefully placed his digits on the bar in front of him and thought about what he might say to guide Breakdown to see things his way.

"If we leave now," he said, "then all we'll be doing is painting large targets on our backs."

"Huh?" Breakdown gave him a curious glance.

"If we leave," Knock Out explained, "Then it'll look like we're running away. The Autobots won the war- Cybertron and the entire galaxy and Earth included will be crawling with them. We'll never be left alone. But if we _stay_..."

"Then we look like we really wanna be on their side," Breakdown finished. He shifted restlessly from side to side as he thought this other. Eventually, he made a conceding sound of disdain. "So am I gonna get on probation too?" he asked.

"They won't have a choice not to!" Knock Out reassured, rushing forwards. He patted Breakdown on his massive chassis. "I'm their current medic and I'll need my assistant! As I always do."

"Heh," Breakdown smirked, looking down at him and swaggering slightly with confidence. "And we have Smokescreen to vouch for me too."

Knock Out forced himself to nod through his now fake smile. "That too," he said.

"Then what?" Breakdown asked.

Knock Out shuttered his optics. "What?"

"How long are we gonna play Autobots?" Breakdown said seriously. "So we get on their good side and convince them we're one of them so they leave us alone. Then what?"

Knock Out faltered. He persisted a smile.

"Then whatever we want," he said smoothly. "Just as we've always done. Whatever we want- _together_."

And thankfully, this was a good enough answer for Breakdown. The next thing Knock Out knew, he felt Breakdown's heavy servo resting on his waist. "Yeah, okay. You're always so clever, hon. You always know how to play any situation and keep us alive."

Knock Out chuckled, delighted at the praise. "Isn't that what I do?"

"So what now?" Breakdown placed his other servo on Knock Out's other side. Knock Out easily recognised that sweeping gaze of his as he looked Knock Out's frame up and down. It was clear what was on Breakdown's processor. "You got Autobots to go repair in the medbay?"

Knock Out placed both servos on the chassis in front of him. "Not at this moment, no. The war is over, there hasn't been any fighting in orns. The worst I get are accidents and aches from them and the vehicons working on the old Waves estate. I hear they're renovating it so they don't have to live on the Nemesis."

Breakdown rolled his optic. "Typical Autobots. Guess the warship isn't cushy enough for their tastes, huh? So what do we do now while you wait for some accident prone 'bots?"

Knock Out looked up at his conjunx endura and shuttered his optics in an alluring flirt. "Well," he said, tilting his hips within Breakdown's hold and trailing a sharp digit down his chassis. "There's a few things I could think of..."

 

When Breakdown opened his optics, he looked directly at Knock Out. It was like he knew where to look before even opening his optics, she thought. 

Knock Out stumbled forwards and placed a servo on his sparkmate’s sparkchamber doors. Slowly, still staring straight up at Breakdown’s optics, he closed them. The spark was now sealed once again right where it belonged.

She felt a large servo gently rest on her shoulder plating. 

“I think he can handle it from here,” Ratchet said quietly, before heading out of the medbay. 

Arcee lingered just moment, long enough to see Breakdown begin to stir his huge arms and Knock Out reach out and ease him back onto the medslab. With his entire attention consumed by the return of his sparkmate, Arcee realised Ratchet was right. Their work here was done, whether they wanted to help further or not.

As soon as the medbay doors closed behind them, as soon as she heard the sound of the doors shut, she felt her pedes buckle. But she forced herself to retain her posture.

“It’s not fair," she heard herself say.

Ratchet, who was walking towards the _Nemesis’_ bridge, turned to faced her. He only lifted a brow ridge. It was a cue to continue, but clearly he already knew what she was thinking.

She fought to keep the emotion out of her vocaliser. “Ratchet, it’s not right.” She took an aggressive stomp forwards and gestured boldly to the medbay behind her. “That? That’s not fair and you know it.”

“Life isn’t fair,” Ratchet said. He sounded annoyed, but whether it was at her or the situation, she wasn’t sure.

“How come the ex-con gets his dead partner back, Ratchet? Tell me, in what twisted world do we live in does that work?" and Arcee thrust a digit to the medbay's doors. "You and I both know Knock Out doesn't deserve this." She waited for Ratchet to offer any kind of input, but he said nothing. It only furthered her frustration. 

"He's a Decepticon!" Arcee insisted, waving her arm again. "A Decepticon and he gets his wish to come true? What about _us, Ratchet?_ We endured this war too but we did it the _right_ way. So how come I don't get Cliffjumper back? Or Tailgate?"

"Breakdown was never dead," was all Ratchet said.

Arcee's optics widened, incensed by Ratchet's reply. "And Optimus? What about him? Why do we lose all the good bots but bots like Starscream and Knock Out get rewarded? Why-"

" _Arcee!_ " Ratchet snapped. He did not move. "Do you honestly think I am not aware of this the moment I saw that sparkchamber? Do you not think I didn't think of Optimus? Or Cliffjumper?"

Arcee didn't know what to say, she could only gaze back at Ratchet hopelessly. She felt her optics quiver and her frame suddenly felt empty of energon.

"It's not fair, Ratchet," she whispered. "It's just not fair."

"This has nothing to do with what Knock Out does or does not deserve," he said firmly, almost cruelly. "Or what _we_ deserve. We didn't fight this war or win this war because of any potential rewards. You know that, Arcee."

Arcee lifted her helm and clutched herself. She started to shake her helm again, but Ratchet drew himself up and said, "We were promised _nothing_ in this war and we all knew that."

"But he chose the Decepticons," Arcee fired back, "we all know he didn't join the Autobots out of any sort of-"

"None of us know what Knock Out's thoughts were prior joining the Autobots," Ratchet retorted.

"But he _chose_ the things he did as a 'con!" Arcee insisted. "Have you seen his criminal record, Ratchet? Did Optimus show you? Because I can only guess at the things Knock Out _doesn't_ boast about!"

"And will that make you feel better?" Ratchet clenched his servos. "Would weighing his good and bad deeds make this justifiable to you? Because it doesn't matter and nobot cares, Arcee."

"I care!" Arcee shouted. "I care because I didn't win this war to see 'cons like Knock Out who fought _against_ us get everything he wants when good bots like us get _nothing_."

"Then that's something you're going to have to deal with," Ratchet said. "Because that's real life whether you like it or not, it's not a debate. You can shout how unfair it is until your pipes break, but it won't bring anybot back from the dead."

The finality in Ratchet's vocaliser rendered Arcee speechless. Still, she wanted to argue and yes, she wanted to yell about it more because it was all she knew to deal with the situation. This is why she needed constant distractions like being thrown into battle, to distract her from these mocking thoughts in her helm.

"I want Cliffjumper back," she said quietly. 

"We all want something we can't have," Ratchet said sternly. 

"I saw the note you made about me in my medical report," she said. "About Cliffjumper helping me through my depression when I arrived on Earth. You knew he was helping me, you knew and that's why you didn't prescribe me medication. Then what do you prescribe for me now, Ratchet? What now?!"

But Ratchet stared at her before saying, "I wanted to prescribe you medication. It was _Optimus_ who said to wait." Arcee gasped silently. "So I can't answer that question. Only Optimus can and he's dead so I suggest you find a new doctor."

He turned to walk away, to leave Arcee alone in the hall when Ultra Magnus rounded the corner, startling both of them.

"I thought I heard voices," he said. "It's good to see you Ratchet, you have perfect timing."

Ratchet looked up at Ultra Magnus suspiciously, "Timing?" he asked, shaken.

Then, surprising them both,Ultra Magnus said, "There's a ship full of Autobots landing outside, I'm gathering everybot so that we can greet them."

"A ship?" Arcee asked, "Do we know who is on it? Or how many bots?"

"Negative," Ultra Magnus replied. "But they may need a medic, I suggest you accompany us, Ratchet."

Ratchet started to garble some sounds that were probably going to be an excuse, but Ultra Magnus already started herding the two of them down the hall.

Outside, the rest of Team Prime had assembled, all but their leader, Bumblebee.

"Have you found Bee?" Arcee heard Wheeljack ask Bulkhead. 

Bulkhead shook his helm. "Haven't seen him all day." Then he noticed Arcee. "Haven't seen you in awhile either!" And in a big friendly gesture, he wrapped his arm around her drawing her between himself and Smokescreen. "Glad to see you up and about!"

"Thanks, Bulk," Arcee said, slightly hesitant. She glanced at Smokescreen to her right who seemed to be building up pent up energy. "Exciting, isn't it? You get to see a few more faces for once."

Smokescreen nodded, looking like he was going to start bouncing up and down at any given moment. "I can't believe it! More Autobots! Maybe we can divvy up the workload around here!"

Bulkhead just chuckled deeply, shaking his helm while Arcee rolled her optics.

The ship was smaller than the _Nemesis_ by about half. After landing a fair distance, the ramp unfolded and Team Prime was about to get a glimpse of their new comrades.

A few bots Arcee had never seen walked down. Including a trine of seekers. She could see a few members of her team flinch instinctively, but the seekers made no move to attack and stood next to the bots without hesitation. Then Arcee noticed somebot familiar. 

Prowl himself strode down the rampart with another bot that was not her other sire. It was some mech she did not recognise. She watched as Prowl's gaze swept over Team Prime, rested on her, but made no move to reach out. What Airachnid had told her was fresh in her mind, about her own sires being responsible for Mirage's death. She crossed her arms and vowed to have a chat with him later.

"Greetings," Ultra Magnus said to the ten or so bots that had descended. "You received our outgoing transmission about the Autobots winning the war? Team Prime welcomes you."

"Indeed, we have," said a voice, and another bot descended. She was far larger than the rest of them, far taller too. She was about the same size Optimus Prime had been. "We come not to join, but to aid in what way we can, in the restoration of our home."

Her pink colouring was overpowering, in Arcee's view, with an elaborate helm and striking blue optics. She carried herself in the same way Optimus had. This bot was more than just a leader of this ship, this bot was far more important than just that. 

"Ariel..?"

Although he barely vented the name, everybot heard it and everybot turned to stare at Ratchet. He squinted at the femme and took a step towards her. 

"Ariel, is that you?" Ratchet repeated.

"No," the femme responded in an almost unkind voice. At least Arcee felt it was. "I was once called Ariel, many years ago before the war. But I am not Ariel anymore nor have I been for millions of years. I am now known as Elita One."

Every member of Team Prime began to murmur to each other, glancing from Ratchet to this strange bot.

Next to Arcee, Smokescreen stirred and she thought she heard him say, "It's _her!_ " but what he meant by that, Arcee did not know.

"Is this what happened to you?" Ratchet asked, his vocaliser sounded hollow. "After you left, only leaving me a note!?"

"I explained in my note," Elita responded, "I had a higher calling to follow."

"Yes, a 'mission from Primus'," Ratchet said, embittered. He drew himself up and vented heavily. "Ever since the operation, you were never the same. But... but I never thought you would go so far as to abandon your-"

"I answer to Primus," Elita replied, her tone absolutely emotionless. Her gaze swept over the members of Team Prime. "Now where is Optimus Prime? I heard he leads this small band of Autobots that won the war."

Before anyone could muster up the courage to tell this stranger what happened to Optimus, Ratchet boldly said, "Do you even know who Optimus Prime _is?_ " stirring confusion in everybot by what he meant.

"I do," Elita said. "But just like myself, he transcended to a higher calling."

Ratchet only glared back, now quaking in indignance. Arcee was about to whisper to Ratchet to ask what this was all about when Elita's commanding vocaliser boomed: 

"Now where is your leader?" she asked.

"Here."

Everybot shuffled and turned to look Bumblebee who was coming down the _Nemesis'_ ramp.

"I'm the leader of Team Prime." Bumblebee strode with confidence. He walked through his team confidently despite being the smallest member. He did not seem to falter when he stood before Elita who was more than twice his size. Arcee smiled to herself. Bumblebee had not only found his voice literally, but metaphorically too it seemed and she was proud of him for it. So much in such little time for their former scout. 

"Allow me to be the first to welcome you back to Cybertron," Bumblebee said, extending a servo.

Nobot expected Elita to look so stricken. Was there the first glimmer of emotion there? Maybe not, it was so brief. 

"Could it be?" she shuttered her optics. "Goldfire?"

Bumblebee recoiled. "Uh, sorry?" he asked. He gave a nervous chuckle, "I think you have the wrong bot. My name is Bumblebee, or just Bumble. Always has been." And he made another attempt to shake Elita's servo, but she made no move to return the gesture.

"My spark would recognise you no matter what name you call yourself," Elita stated matter-of-factly.

Bumblebee shifted nervously and glanced back at his team, all of which, were looking confused. Even Elita's troupe looked unsure of what was going on. Yes, everybot, all except...

"Ratchet," Elita said, "Did you change his name after I left?"

Again, everybot turned to Ratchet.

Ratchet said nothing, his optics darted from Bumblebee to Elita, to everybot present and back.

Bumblebee, however, tried to catch Elita's attention back onto himself. "You must be confused-" he began.

But Elita cut him off. "No matter what transformation befalls me, a spark can always recognise its heir."

Nobot moved.

Arcee couldn't believe what she was hearing and she glanced to her friends to ensure she was hearing correctly. Did that mean this bot was insinuating she was Bumblebee's sire!? Yes, Bulkhead, Wheeljack, Ultra Magnus, everybot looked dumbfounded.

"Y-your heir?" Bumblebee asked. "I'm your heir? You're my _sire?_ " He took a step backwards, out of intimidation or trying to get a better look at the tall bot before him, Arcee wasn't sure.

"No," Elita said, confusing everybot. "I am not your _sire_. I am your _carrier._ "

There was a moment of absolute silence until a ripple of shocked whispers rushed through the small crowd. Even Arcee was taken aback. 

"He's not from the Well!?" she heard Smokescreen gasp as he took a step back.

"Bee's from a sparkmerge..." she saw Bulkhead whisper to Wheeljack and the old mech lifted his helm thoughtfully, muttering something she couldn't hear back to Bulkhead.

Arcee was not a superstitious bot, but even still, she knew of the stigma attached to those rare bots sparked from a sparkmerge and not from Primus himself in the Well of Allsparks. 

"I'm..." Bumblebee's vocaliser was utterly distraught. Even still, Arcee could hear him struggling to retain a level of professionalism. "I'm not from the Well? But-"

"You speak as if there is something wrong with being sparked through the union of two sparks," Elita interrupted. She regained her neutral composure despite apparently speaking to her long lost heir. "It is something to be proud of. Ignore the old foolish hate. It was mere propaganda inspired by the Council as a means to frighten the public about Sparkmerging. Sparklings from a sparkmerge were not catalogued like those from the Well. We are all equal in the optics of Primus. Optimus Prime and myself were blessed to create a sparkling when our two sparks merged."

Another hushed quiet fell onto every bot.

" _Optimus Prime?!_ " Bumblebee gasped, but he silenced himself and a wave of silence passed over him. Finding strength, he choked out, "A-are you saying... O-Optimus Prime..."- did he tremble?- "... He was... was my..."

"Sire," Elita said, giving a curt nod. "Although, when you were sparked to us, he went by the name Orion Pax. You sound as if you did not know this?"

Bumblebee could not speak. He could only shake his helm.

"Surely if you were on his team, he would have said something?" Elita asked.

Again, Bumblebee shook his helm 'no'.

"Ratchet," Elita said, frowning ever so slightly. "Did you never tell Goldfire about his heritage?"

Ratchet's optics were wide, but he continued to say nothing. In fact, he took a single step back.

"I'm... I'm Optimus' heir?" Bumblebee finally croaked. "All this time? He was my _sire!?_ "

"I am sorry, Goldfire," Elita spoke comforting words, but made no move to do comfort her heir. "I thought you would have known. I'm confused as to why Optimus Prime did not say anything to you, it is something he would have been proud of."

"Why didn't he..." Bumblebee repeated softly, his helm hanging. "But you knew." Then suddenly, he lifted it and turned to face the crowd. No, directly at Ratchet.

Ratchet was riveted to the spot, a statue almost.

"You knew, Ratchet," Bumblebee whispered. His optics adjusted and focused repeatedly. "You _knew?_ " He stood there, shut his optics, then said, "But did _he_ know, Ratchet?" Bumblebee stared directly at Ratchet, his arms open in a demanding plea. "Ratchet!" he pushed, becoming angrier, " _Did he know?_ "

All optics were on Ratchet. If you scrutinised him close enough, you could see him trembling ever so slightly. Strained from his obvious torment, Arcee yearned to reach out for him, to provide him with some kind of support.

"You knew." Bumblebee's vocaliser was threateningly quiet. "You knew all these years. _All these years you knew._ And you never told me." He trembled, raising a single digit to point at a speechless Ratchet. "You knew and you could have told him. _He died never knowing!_ "

Nobot vented. Nobot moved. Ratchet took a second step back.

"Optimus Prime is dead?" Elita asked.

"Optimus died orns ago, he carried the Allspark and jumped into the Well so our planet would be restored!" Bumblebee turned on Elita, saying this fiercely. "He died never knowing all this time that I was his heir! And all because you!" and he whipped back around pointing at Ratchet. "Why!? Why did you keep it a secret? Why did you never tell us- what _right_ do you have!?"

But Ratchet, after a moment's hesitation, said, "I... I... I don't need to answer to this." Then to everybot's shock, he stormed back up the rampart and left.

Bumblebee trembled, indignant at Ratchet's retreat. "Optimus Prime died never knowing I was his heir because of you!" Bumblebee shouted after him. "Why!? Tell me why!!"

But Ratchet would not answer why. Instead, he would abandon Team Prime, and Bumblebee, leaving them with this revelatory question unfulfilled. A pleading question to which only Ratchet had the answer. 

 

**_(The Flashback. . . Before the War)_ **

It was the night of the party.

No. Not _the_ party. _Her_ party.

Arcee's party.

As she gazed out at the hall below from atop the stairwell, the entire view was just a mass of bots. All of which she did not recognise. Every single one of these important bots were here to celebrate her union with the bot Shockwave himself had attentively selected and none of them knew- or even cared- who she was. It was Arcee's party, but nobot was here for her.

"And remember," Prowl said, standing to Arcee's left. Her sire had been dictating her list of behaviour rules ever since he had returned from work leading up to the party. "This is your first time alone with him, so remember the list of topics I told you _not_ to discuss. And if you feel overwhelmed, just find us. You don't _need_ to talk with him one on one- also, don't ever guess at anybot's name, wait for them to tell you. And-"

"Enough, Prowl," Arcee's other sire said. Her composed vocaliser put Arcee at ease. But her cold touch as she placed her servo on Arcee's shoulder plating had a way of tensing her. "Arcee, you look _divine_ tonight. He will be absolutely _enamored_ with you."

"This has nothing to do with being enamoured, Flamewar," Prowl corrected brusquely to his mate, "If Arcee says one thing to offend him, his sires might pull out-"

"You're a fool," Flamewar said, lifting her chinguard defiantly. "They want this union as much as we do. Do you honestly think they'll turn down Shockwave?"

"I've worked too hard for this night for anything to go wrong," Prowl snapped.

"You aren't the only bot to have made sacrifices," she hissed.

Arcee hated it when her sires fought. Which was often. Arcee often wondered how these two had ever fallen in love. Or more accurately, if they ever had been.

"Ah!" Prowl puffed out his chassis and made a broad gesture. "Here he is now..."

Both bots turned to the massive bot striding down the stairwell alone. Arcee had met him before. A few times. But only with her sires flanking her. She didn't think she said much more than 'hello, how are you?' to him. The only thing she did know about him was his daunting height. How they were supposed to be compatible, Arcee had no understanding. Clearly, Shockwave had not selected them based on height as Arcee only came up to about his... 

… yeah, they certainly weren't compatible on more than just height, she thought wryly. 

"Hello," he said, looking down at Arcee and her sires. "If I may..." he stammered. It sounded like he was trying to repeat something he had been told by his sires and was struggling to remember the correct order of words. "I'd like to ask Arcee for a stroll. Um, around the gardens, perhaps?"

Before Arcee could say anything, Flamewar stepped forwards. She had to really strain to look up for she was even shorter than Arcee. "Of course you may, Ultra Magnus! Arcee would be delighted," and she felt her sire's cold touch to the small of her back, gently, but sharply pushing her towards the mech.

"Arcee has been looking forwards to this night," Prowl said, looking Ultra Magnus up and down. 

No she hadn't, Arcee thought. But she just offered a tired smile up at Ultra Magnus. Poor bot. He looked nervous and was glancing all around himself, his optics barely resting on her more than an astrosecond.

Well. It was her party. Might as well take what little control she had over the situation.

"Come on, big guy," Arcee said, breaking the ice. "I'd love some fresh air," and that much was definitely true.

She only caught a glimpse of her sires' expressions as she led Ultra Magnus down the stairwell and into the party below. Prowl looked absolutely affronted by his heir's rough manners while Flamewar... well her expressions were always more difficult to read, but she didn't seem too pleased either.

"Ever thought you'd be so important to have a party like this thrown just for you?" Arcee asked, nudging Ultra Magnus playfully in the leg.

"Uh," he hesitated, "Not exactly. I don't know who any of these bots are."

"Well in that regard, we are a perfect match." Arcee smirked, and was relieved when Ultra Magnus returned it with a very faint smile.

She watched all the unknown faceplates pass her by. None of them even took much of a glance at her and it wasn't just because of her diminutive stature. No, all these strangers were too engrossed with their own conversations, all of them boasting of their assumed importance. That's what everybot was really here for, not her, not Ultra Magnus, but for self-promotion. 'Look at how important I am, look at how I am invited to a Shockwave event, just like you and you, but somehow, I'm better.'

Not Arcee's crowd. She'd rather be at the Iacon Hall of Records doing some late night research for Skyfire- she'd even rather be dealing with Starscream than here even. The more bots she passed, every one a mirror-image of the prior in their behaviour, the more Arcee sought to get away.

It was night out. She stood still, staring into the sky above her. But even being out here was disappointing. The stars were barely visible from all the city lights of Iacon masking them. Sometimes, she and Mirage would drive out far past Iacon's limits just to see them. But standing outside in the garden, she still felt trapped. Even if Arcee climbed the garden walls, she'd still be trapped. As long as she was Arcee, the highcaste bot sparked to Prowl and Flamewar, Arcee would be trapped.

The sounds of the party inside were becoming steadily dimmer as she and Ultra Magnus strode through Shockwave's eclectic garden. It was a sight to behold as all of these bizarre, organic plant life had been harvested from alien planets. Something only a bot as wealthy as Shockwave could afford.

"It has an appeal," Ultra Magnus said, breaking the silence.

"I've never really seen anything like it," Arcee commented. "I've seen them in datascrolls at the library, but never up close. They're pretty."

There was a moment's pause. Then Ultra Magnus blurted out, "Like you," and looked away again.

Arcee smiled. "Thanks, but you really don't have to do that." 

"Am I that overt?" he asked.

"If my sires coached me on how to talk to you tonight, then I take it yours did as well," Arcee said with a smirk. "That, and you keep looking at everything but me."

"Social conversation is not my strength," Ultra Magnus admitted.

"Well, being forced into a union with a bot I barely know isn't mine either," she said and walked on ahead towards a bench beneath a tree.

"That is true," Ultra Magnus said, faltering slightly. 

Catching up with her, he uneasily took a seat next to her. He looked like he felt awkward sitting on a low bench, but somehow he also looked used to it. He stretched out his legs in front of him to seat himself more comfortably.

Arcee plucked one of the leaves off the tree and stared at the organic matter in her servo.

"Look, I'm going to be honest with you," she began, "I don't exactly feel a pull towards you. That, and I have a boyfriend." Ultra Magnus nodded. "I like you, but I can't act like I have feelings for you."

"Then you won't take offensive that the situation for me is mutual?" he asked.

Arcee raised a brow. "You have a boyfriend?"

"No," Ultra Magnus replied and started to fidget slightly. "I haven't told anybot this and I'd rather it not be spread around, but I'm not interested in mechs." He paused for a moment as if fighting internally if he should divulge his secret. "But I'm not interested in femmes either." The words seemed caught in his vocaliser. "I'm just not interested and I can't make myself interested no matter how hard I try."

Ultra Magnus would not make optic contact with her. For somebot as large as he was, Arcee realised he was surprisingly vulnerable underneath that stoic exterior. Awkward and introverted, this bot's size was clearly not reflective of his personality. 

Reaching out, she placed her servo over his. She at first wondered if he could even feel her tiny touch, but right away he looked at her like her gesture meant far more than Arcee knew.

"Then you and I are going to have to agree that we're going to allow each other to do what it takes to be happy in this relationship," she said firmly.

A smile appeared on his faceplate. She had never seen him smile before this night.

"I mean at least we get along, right?" Arcee shrugged, willing a hopeful smile on her own faceplate. "That's more than can be said for my sires. So, are we in an agreement? Friends?" and she held out her servo in a gesture to shake.

Ultra Magnus nodded curtly, which she had surmised, was the only way he could nod. "Friends," he said. 

He was just about to shake her servo when there came a burst of giggling coming from the bushes. Alert, Arcee stood up and shone her lights in the direction of the sounds. 

"Show yourselves!" Ultra Magnus said, his voice commanding.

They heard a startled cry from the bushes and two bots stumbled out. Both were laughing and looking more than a little flustered that they had been caught.

"We didn't know there were any other bots in the garden!" the femme said, covering her mouthplate as she laughed.

The mech looked far more embarrassed and composed himself, standing straight. "We were... just, um..." he started to say.

But Arcee held up a servo. "No need to explain. I think the giddy laughter gives it away."

"Probably the same thing you were planning!" the femme said and she bounced forwards, clasping the mech's servos in her own. He smiled shyly and attempted to remain polite. "Hey!" she said abruptly, "Aren't you the bots they're having this huge party for!?"

"That's us," Arcee said. There was no enthusiasm in her tone. 

"Wow!" the femme exclaimed, not registering Arcee’s lackluster response. "Well, it's some party! Oh, I forgot! My name is Ariel," she said, slapping a servo to her bright pink chassis. She then gestured to the mech next to her, "And this is Orion!"

"Orion Pax," the mech said and reached out to shake both Arcee and Ultra Magnus' servos.

"Nice to meet you both," Arcee said and Ultra Magnus murmured his sentiments.

"Can you believe the size of this estate!" Ariel made a broad gesture to emphasise her point. "I've never been anywhere near a place like this before! And the energon is so tasty! And all the bots are so fancy!"

Orion Pax nodded. "It's very impressive."

Well, at least somebot was genuinely enjoying the party, Arcee thought. 

"There's bots here I only see in the news!" Ariel continued, beaming with excitement. "They even have Blurr and Override and the gladiator, Megatronus!! But can you believe he's here with guards and in shackles!? That isn't fair! It's like they want him here to look at because he's famous, but is still maligned for being a gladiator!" 

"Isn’t he a criminal, Ariel?" Orion Pax asked softly. 

But Ariel shook her helm adamantly, "For doing what!? Just because he’s low caste, that’s why! They have it far worse than we do.” Orion seemed to hesitate and Arcee, too, did not understand the complexity of Ariel’s conviction. “It's so barbaric!” she continued, “It's a double standard! Oh, Orion! We should say hi to him later- everybot just stares and talks about him but nobot actually has the ball bearings to say hello. He's just on display like an ornament."

“Do you think he would talk to us?” Orion said, “Maybe he won’t like to talk to bots like us.”

“No,” Ariel folded her arms in front of herself with confidence. “He’s lonely! I can see it in his optics.” 

Arcee didn't know much about Megatronus, or gladiator battles, but she felt she could relate to the whole 'just on display like an ornament' feeling. Ariel continued to gesture animatedly as she spoke of injustice while her partner just nodded politely looking overwhelmed. Arcee thought about making up an excuse to remove herself from the conversation when she saw a slender figure move in the shadows. 

Arcee watched the figure carefully as it slowly made its way towards them. The figure was decorated with bright purple bio-lights casting a warm, soothing glow as the bot treaded through the brush of the garden and into view.

It was Soundwave. The co-owner of the Distribution Centres and inhabitant of this estate. With his long cables trailing elegantly behind him, they glowed in a gentle repetitive wave, guiding a plethora of mini-cons behind him. All of them looked startled at the sight of Arcee and the other bots but Soundwave himself seemed barely perturbed, as if he had already known they were there. The two flying above him skittered nervously and one landed on the tip of his digit he extended.

"Sorry," Arcee spoke first, a little hesitant, "We're not bothering you, are we?"

Silently, Soundwave shook his helm 'no'. As a courtesan, his faceplate was completely masked by a screen. She should have realised he would not speak to anybot other than his client.

Even so, she couldn't help but joke, "Guess we're not the only ones already tired of the party, huh?"

While Soundwave did not reply. Instead, he extended his long wing-like arm, guiding the little flying mini-con towards Arcee. The mini-con hovered just above Arcee and began to flitter playfully around her and the other bots. As if this was some sort of signal, the other mini-cons approached the bots.

"Ohhhhh," Ariel gushed, bending down to her knee joints. "Mini-cons! They're _soooo_ adorable!" and she scooped up a small purple one who laughed playfully.

Even her partner reached out and petted the four-legged one between its perked audio receptors. "They are surprisingly friendly." Orion sounded impressed.

"You're tall!" the black mini-con said, staring up at Ultra Magnus. "I've never seen a bot as big as you before!"

Ultra Magnus grimaced. "I get that a lot," he said, fidgeting.

"I want to be as big as you!" The black mini-con looked awed.

That awkward smile slowly spread into a genuine one. "I don't get that often."

But they were interrupted when Soundwave abruptly retracted his cables and, the mini-cons having noticed this, all fled back to his side. All of them transformed, becoming a part of Soundwave- one his chest, another his back, his shoulders and soon he was not as slender as he just had been.

"I see you've met Soundwave's collection," a deep voice said. A bot stepped into view and it was Shockwave himself, owner of the Distribution Centres, one of the leading scientific bots on Cybertron and host of Arcee's party, that stood before all four young bots.

Realising they were in the presence of such an important bot, all four stood up and bowed courteously. 

Soundwave sauntered over to Shockwave, standing close to him.

"You see," Shockwave continued, "He can't help himself at the Distribution Centres. He loves to adopt all the homeless mini-cons. They are like his heirs, aren't they?" and the two bots looked at one another for just a lingering moment. "But speaking of heirs, it is not Soundwave's, but yours I wish to discuss."

And it took Arcee a moment to realise Shockwave was talking to her.

Soundwave stepped back and his mini-cons transformed off of him. With his long cables guiding them once more, they resumed their stroll into the garden and out of sight.

"My heir?" Arcee asked, she looked up at Ultra Magnus who interlocked his servos out of nervousness. 

"The one I selected just for the two of you," he said, approaching them. “It has been my personal project for quite some time, the decoding has been a meticulous matter, but I am adamant that both of your codings will be the perfect match for this particular sparkling."

"A sparkling?" Ariel sounded utterly enthused and she clasped her servos excitedly.

If only Arcee could share in her excitement. 

"Indeed," Shockwave nodded. "Would you like to see your sparkling?" He withdrew a small datapad and turned it to show Arcee. Ultra Magnus leaned down to see.

On the screen played a video of a light blue sparkling. It was kept preserved inside a special case in what looked like a dimly lit laboratory. The way the glow of the sparkling hummed, it was almost like it was sleeping.

"It's a very special sparkling." Shockwave's vocaliser was soft. "Not just any for this experiment." 

"What makes it special?" Orion Pax asked.

"It has a _destiny_ ," Shockwave said.

"A destiny?" Arcee repeated.

The light of the datapad reflected onto Shockwave's faceplate through the darkness. "There is something enticingly unique about this sparkling. Unlike any other to come from the Well in a long time."

"How can you tell?" Ultra Magnus asked.

"My facilities are most advanced," Shockwave said. "We perform all kinds of experiments on sparklings there. This one in particular caught my attention. I knew it required not just any sires to provide it with coding. This one... this one is going to change history for Cybertron."

"Aren't all sparklings important in the optics of Primus?" Ariel interrupted. She seemed unaware of her bold statement. "Any one of us could change history too."

But instead of insulting Shockwave, he chuckled a deep laugh in the back of his vocaliser. "Of course, all of us possess the capacity to change. But it is logical that, when one that has it written in their coding from the Well of Allsparks, calculated breeding measures must be taken."

"And if not?" Ariel asked.

"Then that would be a crime against all of Cybertron, whatever ‘Primus’ sees," Shockwave said with finality. He shut the datapad off and stowed it away. "You two have exemplary coding," he addressed Arcee and Ultra Magnus who exchanged baleful looks. "I am confident with this pairing and eager for the results. Come!" he gestured broadly at all four bots. "Let's join your party, shall we, and make the announcement? Plenty of bots are invested in this experiment!"

It was more than just a hint, but a politely worded command. It was time to leave their sanctuary in the gardens and join the real world. The real world that Arcee had no control over herself in. With this fresh in her processor as she followed Shockwave back into the main hall, she was able to take particular note of the gladiator, Megatronus. 

He was easy to spot because, just as Ariel had said, he was flanked by guards and his servos cuffed in decorative cuffs. His broad chassis was polished and shiny, yet even so, she could still see a few knicks from all his achievements in the ring. And just as Ariel had said to Orion, he was surrounded by bots excited to see such a star, but nobot was actually speaking to him. Yet, what chilled Arcee the most, was how the powerful mech stared past them all, surveying the party, and looked directly at her. Or was it Shockwave he looked at? Or Ariel who held servos with her partner? Megatronus' piercing blue optics revealed that while he stood still, tolerating all the gawking, there was an intelligent processor within him, but what he thought, Arcee could only guess.

"I would like to have everybot's attention!" Shockwave's vocaliser boomed out through the crowd.

Arcee realised she had followed Shockwave to the a centre enclave in front of a giant screen. Ultra Magnus stood with her, but Ariel and Orion Pax had merged with the crowd. They were standing with an older mech who looked like he was giving them a good lecturing for straying out of his sight for so long. Arcee took particular note of the large seeker with him, little red medical markings adorned his wings. The only seeker in the crowd it seemed like. 

If only she could have invited Skyfire. Then at least there'd be one supportive face in the crowd. Although if she had, it would have meant inviting Starscream and that was definitely a no-go for her. 

The only faces in the crowd Arcee recognised was that of her own sires. It didn't go over her helm how Prowl was in a group far on the opposite side of the room than Flamewar and her circle of friends.

"Esteemed friends and colleagues," Shockwave began. Now all attention was on them. "I invited all of you here tonight for a night of celebration! Tonight, we celebrate a rare insight to the history of Cybertron! History will remember this night as one the changed the future! A future-"

But suddenly the video on the screen behind Arcee switched from a promotional video of Shockwave's Distribution Centres, to a live news feed.

"Red Alert here with breaking news!!" the bot on the screen reported into the camera. Behind him, explosions were going off, fire blazed and sirens rang out. "There has been an _explosion_ at the Waves Sparkling Distribution Centre Number 38!"

The video cut to bots fleeing the front of the centre, pelting through the streets but another explosion went off and the camera shook- the reporter ducked and bots still running out the front doors were engulfed in the flames.

A servo flew to cover her mouth as Arcee gaped in shock at the news report. She could hardly process what she was witnessing, let alone what this would mean for her future.

"We are hearing reports of multiple explosions!" the reporter shouted over the noise of sirens and screams. As if forgetting he had a job to do, the reporter turned to watch the horror unfold. Bots on fire were jumping through the glass windows, falling to their deaths while others banged on the glass windows before being consumed by more explosions. 

"Primus!” the reporter cried into the camera, remembering his job. “Nobot's going to make it out alive! There are hundreds- maybe thousands of workers trapped inside! Distribution Centre 38 is one of the largest on Cybertron and the centre for Shockwave’s own Sparkling Research Department in Iacon. We know for certain that Distribution Centre Number 38 houses thousands of harvested sparklings from the Well of Allsparks- I- I think I see Rescue Teams arriving!"

A hushed quiet fell on all the bots in the hall. But nobot was more horrified by what they saw than Shockwave. 

"My... my Centre..." he finally gasped, the light of the explosions continually blowing up on the screen reflected off his faceplate. Despite his hushed tone, the room was so quiet that nobot would have trouble hearing him. "The sparklings... my work... this is _illogical_."

Arcee was too shocked in the moment by what was happening to realise that the sparkling Shockwave had promised to Ultra Magnus and herself was at this Distribution Centre. That special sparkling, the one with the ' _destiny_ ', the one that had created this whole fuss and the reason Arcee was being paired off with a bot she did not know or love, was surely dead. She had just seen it sleeping peacefully, waiting for its future sires to code it, and now...

"It can not be..." Shockwave whispered to himself next to her. 

Then one bot strode forward from the crowd. Arcee realised this bot was one of Prowl's co-workers, a fellow policebot.

"Shockwave, I am arresting you for conspiracy and sabotage. For blowing up your own fragging centre."

" _What!?_ " Shockwave hissed, drawing himself up in resistance. 

"Barricade, what are you doing!?" Prowl pushed through the crowd. " _I_ give the orders and I order you to retract that statement!"

But Barricade was far taller than Prowl and loomed over him threateningly, "I just got a comm-link from somebot higher up than you."

Prowl looked flabbergasted. "Who!? You can't do this here! At his own party? In front of _everybot here!?_ " Prowl snarled then said as low as he could to Barricade, "You _know_ how important this event is to me!"

"Take it up with the Council," Barricade sneered and reached forwards with his clawed servos to grab Shockwave.

Flamewar, too, darted next to Prowl and pulled on him fiercely for attention. “What the _frag_ are you doing, Prowl?” she spat, barely able to retain a whisper. “You are ruining everything, you fragging lube-guzzling-”

“I didn’t order this!” Prowl shouted back at his mate, looking embarrassed and furious. “Barricade!” he yelled, but the bot formerly his subordinate, smacked him out of his way with a swipe of his heavy arm.

"You can't do this!" Shockwave cried out, too much in shock to resist. "I am not responsible! How could I!?"

The entire hall had gone into chaos. Bots were yelling and whispering and gossiping, everybot’s voice coming to a raucous choir. All were pointing at the screen, at Arcee and Ultra Magnus, and at Shockwave too. Prowl was still yelling with Barricade who roared back while Flamewar continued to harass her mate. The entire party was now madness. 

The only bot who seemed calm was Megatronus, whose expression had not flickered the entire time. 

"Arcee," she heard Ultra Magnus whisper next to her. "What does this mean for us?"

But Arcee was distracted, she noticed a bot in the crowd, that like Megatronus, was not behaving like the rest. He was a strange looking bot. He transformed a mask over his mouthplate and pulled out two long swords from his back. In a swift move, he darted through the crowd unnoticed and out the garden doors into the night.

He ran right past Soundwave who had been lingering by the garden entrance with his mini-cons surrounding him during the announcement. While Arcee could not see any faceplate to read any expression, he looked as if he was hesitating, his helm darting right and left as he surveyed the madness. 

Then in an instant, a fleet of policebots broke into the front hall doors and amassed around Shockwave, immediately cuffing him. It was like they all knew exactly where to go. Almost rehearsed. 

Barricade jabbed a digit at Soundwave, “You’re under arrest too, as the co-owner of Sparling Distribution-”

“No!” Shockwave interrupted Barricade, attempting to pull his arm out of his tight grasp. “Leave him be!”

But a wave of policebots ran towards Soundwave who recoiled in… fright? Arcee could not tell. 

“GO!” Shockwave yelled at him. “Get out of here!”

Before the policebots could descend on Soundwave, all the mini-cons transformed onto him. Soundwave himself transformed into a flying alt-mode and shot off into the night. 

“I want him arrested!” Barricade screamed, “I want him found!”

The same wave of policebots ran out of the room, past Prowl who was still protesting and spluttering while Flamewar looked as if she was ready to kill, she just didn’t know who to kill first. 

All of this was utterly overwhelming. Never could Arcee have imagined that something like this would happen. She had wished over and over for a way out of this union, for a way out of this life, but this was beyond her wildest imagination. It was all occurring in such a flurry that Arcee could barely believe it was all real.

“Arcee,” Ultra Magnus repeated, startling Arcee. “What do we do?”

"I..." Arcee stammered, "I don't know."

"This is insanity!" Shockwave roared as he was jostled and pushed towards the exit by Barricade and the force of policebots. He was in cuffs now, the second bot in the room like this. 

"I did not do this!" he yelled as he was forced out the hall, his voice growing dimmer. "This is a crime against Cybertron! Against the future! I am innocent! I am-"

But the doors slammed shut and that was the end to the party. _Arcee's_ party. Shockwave was right, it was a night that would change the future, but certainly, Arcee thought, not in the way anybot had expected.


	13. Family Outing |&| Bros Before Beaus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knock Out understands that fixing the past is the only way to begin the future, only now, it's far more complicated than he expected. Perhaps some long-overdue fresh air will set him on the right path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies for the huge delay! I am aiming to have the next chapters out a lot quicker! hopefully before the end of the month. :) Thank-you to all the meaningful comments, likes and kudos, they mean everything to me. It makes me so happy to know that people are (still) enjoying this story.

“He’s blocked access to Hangar E,” Arcee said. She made another attempt to connect the groundbridge. Hangar E was the place Ratchet would most likely have fled to, and they must have been correct for she was only met with another unusual error message.

Behind her, the remaining members of Team Prime exchanged baleful looks.

“Ratchet’s gone, Bumblebee’s gone,” Bulkhead spoke up in distress, “Now what?” 

“You’re second in command,” Wheeljack said, looking up at Ultra Magnus. “Got any bright ideas, _Commander?_ ”

“I spoke with Elita One,” Ultra Magnus replied. “They’ve decided to stay on their ship and aid us with repairs to the Waves Estate. They plan to move in there with the rest of us once it has been restored. In the meantime,” he surveyed the small team now made even smaller with the lack of two members. “We stay busy as usual.”

“And Bumblebee?” Bulkhead asked, persistent. “We can’t just abandon Bee!”

Arcee shook her helm. “Except we don’t know where he is, if he’s on the _Nemesis_ or if he used some other exit and is somewhere on Cybertron or if he’s even on Earth- or with Ratchet,” she said, servo on waist. 

She shared Bulkhead’s concern, especially after the groundbreaking information they had all just learned. Including the shock of Ratchet’s own involvement on the identity of Bumblebee’s sire and carrier. And none of them were even too clear on what that involvement even was, for that matter. She met each member in the optics, from Ultra Magnus’ stoic expression shielding his concern, Bulkhead who was genuinely fretful for their friend, Wheeljack’s frustration and then lastly Smokescreen, who had not spoken the entire time and was too busy looking at the floor.

“Point is,” Arcee continued, “Wherever he went, he chose to. There’s nothing we can do about it until he shows up.”

Each Team member murmured their agreement in some way.

“Speaking of bots showing up,” Wheeljack said, crossing his arms. Arcee was taken aback by how he was now shifting his attention directly onto her. As if she was now somehow in the hot seat. “We need to have a little discussion about that...”

 

Knock Out gasped, his mouthplate the shape of surprise curving into a grin of pure delight at the familiar feel of exploring servos running all over his frame. With his back wheels removed, Knock Out laid flat against the berth, settling into a position that would welcome the weight of the mech about to be upon him. 

Two servos slammed down. Optics blazing with a seductive endeavor, Knock Out challenged the bot pinning him. He may have conceded to this position this time, but Knock Out never relinquished his power. It was only a matter of how to play it, and now, with Breakdown over him, he knew it would all be about his allure.

Because to be looked at like the way Breakdown did, well no toy of Knock Out’s could instill such an intoxicating thrill like the look of being desired did for him. Witnessing the yearning in Breakdown’s optic was a pure drug. Knock Out could pinpoint the craving, how Breakdown's gaze swept all over his flawless frame and rested on the entrapping hold of Knock Out’s optics. Yes, this is what Knock Out needed. That look and touch of being craved. All it took was a calculated tilt of his pipes yielding a gracious enough space for Breakdown to kiss to have him succumb. 

Immediately, Breakdown caved and took advantage of the sweet spot. As soon as he began delivering slow, stirring kisses, Knock Out grinned to himself. He slowly closed his optics, allowing the surge of pleasure to overwhelm his senses. 

He gasped. This was what he had fevered for. Feeling desired _consumed_ Knock Out, it was almost overload-worthy in of itself.

Aggressively, Breakdown grabbed his waist, tugging Knock Out closer as he dove his glossa between Knock Out’s soft mouthplate. Overpowering the fierce kiss with his own, Knock Out cupped his lover’s chinguard, forcing him closer and gently scratching him as he did so. He heard Breakdown give a small grunt, kissing him rougher. 

Knock Out's optics flared open from excitement. 

Yes, the thrill of rough play was exactly what Knock Out missed. So while they kissed hard, he ran his sharp digits along Breakdown's upper limbs, cutting deeper as he went. He heard Breakdown grunt again and in retaliation, Breakdown thrust his waist into Knock Out, forcefully pinning him. 

Knock Out smirked, amused at how Breakdown thought he was assuming control. So to prove otherwise, Knock Out parted their kiss by widening his mouthplate, teasing Breakdown. Aggrieved, he grabbed Knock Out by the back of his helm and forced him to kiss again. 

Delighted by his sparkmate's bold move, Knock Out attempted to wiggle his pinned lower body out from under. But Breakdown was aware of this and, with his other servo, he grabbed Knock Out around his waist, trapping him.

"You hot little racecar," Breakdown vented, looking down at his lover. He added playfully, "Quit toying with me." 

Not just his servos, but Breakdown’s entire frame wandered all down Knock Out, a servo resting over his lower plating.

He was heating up faster than he thought, Knock Out realised. His frame tensed from surprise when he felt the wet touch of Breakdown's glossa press against him. 

"Ah!" Knock Out whimpered excitedly. 

His sharp digits clawed at the berth as Breakdown continued to slide his glossa slowly along the outer ring. The slow gliding movements caused Knock Out’s frame to tense from the tickling sensation creating a fever in him for more.

Maybe Breakdown knew this because with his other servo, he rubbed over the heated lower plating causing Knock Out to dig his claws fiercely into the berth and grit his dentae. He couldn’t contain himself any longer and he transformed his lower plating, exposing himself.

His hips twisted in delirium as Breakdown pressed his digits tightly up along Knock Out, slowly making his way to the top. A soft kiss took Knock Out by surprise. But Breakdown’s kiss spread wider, his glossa pressing, and he settled into a lustful, greedy suck. The two pleasures overwhelmed Knock Out in a sensation he could not control. His optics flickered, his digits seized into a curve and his frame became hotter and wetter.

His cooling fans now humming inside him, he gasped more heavily, wanting more, to become hotter and wetter still. He was completely enthralled, so completely overtaken that Knock Out ran his servos along his own self, feeling just how beautiful he was. His servos ran over his gorgeous, smooth chassis and along his firmly built structured frame. He was _flawless_ and as such, he _deserved_ being treated this way. Nobot could resist Knock Out, not even Knock Out himself.

One eager servo found himself. Steadily, he guided Breakdown, finding just the right speed and force for pumping more ecstasy- and more lubricant as it slid down. Sticky and slippery, it ran between both of their intermingled digits. Moaning, Knock Out squeezed himself harder as he pushed up, the sensors on his spike burning brighter as their combined motion stimulated him. 

Knock Out could not restrain a sigh of delight. Breakdown started to moan too as he pushed his glossa further in, his sucking becoming more eager. He ran his glossa up towards Knock Out’s spike, kissing the tip. Knock Out flushed at the feel of Breakdown’s soft mouthplate press against him. Then, abruptly, Breakdown plunged the entire size into his mouth. Wet digits now pushed deep into Knock Out's valve, both Breakdown’s digits and mouth finding a furious rhythm.

While Breakdown wrapped his glossa around him and his mouth pumped up and down, over and over, faster and faster. Knock Out explored himself with a fervor, managing to force a digit of his own inside himself. He heard Breakdown grunt as he did, and he sped up the force in which he thrusted his two digis.

Knock Out felt _amazing_. He allowed his engine to purr louder, proudly declaring his gratification at the reaffirmation of how perfectly built he was. He had to be, to garner such perfect praise like this. 

Breakdown ran his mouthplate up for one last teasing suck, leading back into a final kiss on the tip before parting. Now, he looked down at his Knock Out who gazed zealously back. 

And Breakdown was _stunning_ too. Knock Out was flushed with enamour at Breakdown’s size and build. He was perfect and he had to be, to compliment the beauty of Knock Out's own. He was everything Knock Out desired in a mech and he loved everything about his lifelong mate. Especially how he swaggered his hips as he did just now. 

Breakdown transformed himself, revealing the large size he kept hidden. Knock Out ran his glossa along his mouthplate in delight at the sight of it. He could already feel his valve’s sensors burning to accept the full size of Breakdown's spike. He couldn't wait any longer, so all it took was one twitch of the corner of Knock Out’s mouthplate, faint, but unmistakeable- a cocky grin, daring Breakdown into action.

Breakdown slammed himself into Knock Out.

Knock Out gasped in reaction, his valve, although widened by their digits, was still not ready for the thickness and depth of Breakdown- who gave him no time to adjust. Breakdown was already thrusting into him and even though Knock Out had cringed, the burning for more thrusts overrode that shock. Soon his hips were moving in motion and gliding faster along the thick width inside him. 

Breakdown lowered himself, pressing against Knock Out. But it wasn't close enough, so Knock Out hooked his sharp digits in the slots on Breakdown's chassis, grabbing him closer. He clawed and kneaded more and more as Breakdown pounded him rougher and faster. Feeling the sheer size of Breakdown fill him, feeling it dive deep, gliding along his fluids and plunging faster made Knock Out moan loudly. He dug his claws deeper into Breakdown, feeling small drops of energon drip where he clawed. 

But Knock Out loved it rough and he loved inflicting physical pain as they fragged. But what he loved even more than that, was that Breakdown _wanted_ the pain. Knock Out ran his claws all over Breakdown and pressed hard into his back, making him growl and drive himself even harder.

Breakdown's optic flew open from the pain but he grinned through it. He vented heavier by Knock Out's audios who shivered. 

"You tease," Breakdown gasped, his faceplate pressed right by Knock Out's. "You get me so damn hot with how gorgeous you are. Frag, you're... ungh... you're ah... you're _beautiful_."

Knock Out opened an optic, barely able to keep it open from the pleasure he was enrapt within. He looked at Breakdown next to his faceplate, watching him steadily as he was complimented.

Breakdown's chuckle was a low rumble. "You're the best, babe," he continued through more grunts. He spread his own legs, forcing Knock Out's wider and thrust him in long, powerful strokes. "I lose it with you, when you toy with me... I just wanna, _hnff_... have you on the floor pounding you til you can't take me no more." Breakdown reached down and grabbed Knock Out's aft, driving it forcefully against his spike, chasing and craving their shared passion. "Come on, scratch me up some more... harder..."

Completely aroused by these words, Knock Out raked his claws as hard as he could up along Breakdown's sides. These long, deep cuts made Breakdown moan loudly. " _More!_ " he growled.

They rocked, their frames fiercely seeking more pleasure, it was never enough and right when Knock Out felt like he wasn't going to keep going, he transformed his chassis, his sparkchamer unlocking and revealing his burning pure red spark.

Breakdown propped himself up with his arms and slowed his movements, gasping as he vented more air. He stared into the spark then looked into Knock Out's hypnotic optics, just as red as his spark.

"Merge with me," Knock Out whispered. Condensation trickled down his helm and faceplate, he too was straining to vent. He shuttered his optics seductively, losing himself in that soft, entrancing yellow optic of Breakdown’s. It made him dizzy with need, to lose himself in that yellow, to have it swallow him. Knock Out felt the same emotions as he had the first time he had ever seen them from across the room and felt himself pulled towards this unknown mech who would become his sparkmate. Comfort, adoration, passion and safety. And...

"Love me," Knock Out said, low and luring. "I _need_ you."

"I love you, Knock Out," Breakdown said and he succumbed. His own chassis transforming, his yellow spark filled Knock Out's optics. It was all he saw until Breakdown slammed himself back down.

Instantly, their sparks merged.

Knock Out’s vocaliser caught in his pipes as he felt his emotions overflow and consume Breakdown whose entire frame shuddered against him. Breakdown slowed his movements from the pure shock of being so overwhelmed by the floodgate of emotions hitting him.

Desperation, longing, guilt, loneliness and desire- _so much_ desire. All of it hit Breakdown in one big wave. All of it crushed him but sought him and needed him just as Knock Out said he did. 

"I missed you," Knock Out whimpered while struggling to keep his hip riding in motion. He shut his optics tight. "I missed you so _much_. Oh, Breakdown..." he sighed. He opened his optics slightly to see him, to ensure that Breakdown was really real and really there with him. He felt tears of lubricant gather in the corners of his optics as their frames rocked devotedly with one another. " _I love you._ "

Their optics met and he felt the wave of Breakdown's emotions hug his spark in a compassionate embrace. Love wrapped around his entire spark supporting his own from just crumbling apart in the weight of his own need for his sparkmate. Breakdown did not have to say anything, Knock Out could feel all the love Breakdown felt towards him. All that love consisted of his entire spark and it poured into him, through his own spark and into every part of his frame.

It made more lubricant gather and run down his faceplate from his optics. It was too much, but he lusted for all of it. Everything he felt from Breakdown, he needed it to exist, to keep himself together and be who Knock Out was inside. His spark fervently sought more of Breakdown, all of his reassurance was never enough. Greedily, worriedly, his spark demanded more and Breakdown's provided all of it, never ending. Continually, Knock Out felt love, more and more until it filled him entirely. 

"I love you," Knock Out repeated in a whisper. He would continue to whisper this over and over, wildly, as their sparks and frames moved with each other, driven purely by their urge for each other.

His emotions intensified and he felt his entire frame seize and he gasped. Rocking more and more, Knock Out placed a servo on Breakdown's faceplate and gazed deeply into his lover's optic. One last look, one last assurance that all of this was real before they kissed.

And he immediately gasped through their kiss, their sparks burning brighter and their frames found their crescendo. Breakdown pressed forcefully, not allowing their kiss to break while their sparks and frames could take it no more. Finally, after all the build up Knock Out had inside himself, expanding since the death of Breakdown, he released.

He threw his helm back and let out a cry, his optics dilating into searing red slits. His spark felt like was going to explode from euphoria. Frame and spark, Knock Out and Breakdown both released their sensation into the other, overloading together in a united finale. 

An intense shiver travelling all down his frame, he heard Breakdown groan long and slow right by his audios. Breakdown gave his last, hard thrust, pumping transfluid into Knock Out. His own release was pinned between them both.

Knock Out thought he could see stars, they were everywhere. It was like time itself had suspended, allowing him to feel Breakdown and everything he was as well as everything that made himself Knock Out. Their sparks, after exploring and supporting each other, were entirely one and the sensation was everything to him.

Then he trembled from the release he shared and suddenly they were spent.

In unison, both mechs crashed against the berth. Arms shaking from using more energy, Breakdown slipped himself off of Knock Out and thudded next to him. Gasping and venting, Knock Out looked to Breakdown and saw that he was already powering down, faceplate flat against the berth. 

As he vented more, the condensation dripping down his helm, Knock Out recognised the signs of his own frame shutting down for a recharge. 

Finally... finally, he thought, optics slowly fluttering to a close, _finally_ Knock Out would get a good night's power down.

 

His optics lit up. As soon as his processor stirred and his senses regulated, Knock Out attempted to sit himself up. Instantly with the motion, he felt his spark lurch inside. He must have been more dazed than he thought because he had to cover his mouthplate to keep himself from heaving up energon. Apparently his spark still needed time to recover, he thought, as he struggled to compose himself. 

Their sparkmerge had been one of the most intense joinings that he had ever experienced in recent memory. Knock Out had been filled with an overwhelming amount of heightened emotions, all of them bottled up, battling each other and building for so long that having his sparkmate back again to merge with had been the remedy he needed. Although his spark felt uneasy from the aftermath of the emotional merge, it also thrummed with a tranquility he had not felt since before Breakdown’s death. 

He still couldn't believe Breakdown was alive. Knock Out’s spark would not have to live millions of years without its other half afterall. Was this real and not simply a dream?

But it was the sound of loud venting that told Knock Out that all of this was real. Faceplate still face down in the berth, Breakdown was deep in recharge. Knock Out had told Arcee that something as obnoxious as this familiar sound was what he craved. Hearing it every time he woke or fell into power down had become a required tempo his system relied on over the years. _We survived another day of war_ , it would repeat.

And this time, they survived the _entire war_.

Knock Out pushed himself off the berth and was immediately hit with dizziness. He staggered and clutched his chassis as he steadied himself, waiting for his spark to adjust. 

As he made his way to the vanity, he caught a glimpse of himself in his three-way mirror. His bio-lights along his back and pipes were barely glowing, another sign his frame was still spent from the sparkmerge. 

Even his optics looked paler than usual, he noticed as he sat at his vanity admiring himself. But he shuttered them playfully regardless. Still gorgeous.

Whatever Breakdown had with Airachnid, Knock Out no longer felt threatened. In fact, he mocked at whatever poor, pitiful frag they experienced. Whatever it had been, there was no way it could have compared to what Knock Out was capable of. Yes Airachnid, he did think highly of his prowess, because Knock Out was the _best_. His spark burned stronger as he had thrived in his element.

So Breakdown had been right all those nights ago, a sparkmerge was what he needed. To know and understand, to feel Breakdown's emotions and for him to feel his. Even while Knock Out had wrapped his spark in Breakdown’s continual love as they merged, he had glimpsed the guilt Breakdown still felt. It wasn’t that Knock Out hadn’t believed in Breakdown’s guilt, even that night when he had learned of the affair, it was more that he hadn’t wanted to see it or deal with it. It would mean sympathising and he had been fiercely adamant in throwing himself into his rage, directing it all at Breakdown, guilt or not.

That night now felt like an eternity ago, yet what Knock Out had felt back then had been preserved in a little glass box in is own processor to reflect upon and refuel his anger. But as Knock Out recollected, he understood that they had not communicated at all. They had fought, Breakdown had explained himself, and they had fragged. But Knock Out had not been able to forgive, and that meant they had not reconciled. The sparkmerge was long overdue.

Knock Out waved a small buffer over his front chassis, smoothing out any scuffs from their reunion. Suddenly, buffing himself wasn't so bad anymore, not quite the aggrieving chore it had been. He was humming with delight to himself, taking both time and enjoyment in waxing and shining himself up when Breakdown started to stir.

"Ah, good, you're up!" Knock Out enthused as he scrutinised a spot on his shoulder. "I need you to do me a little favour, my pet!"

"Huh?" Breakdown heaved himself off the berth and shook himself before stretching with a yawn. He grabbed a canister of energon on the berthstand and took a swig. "What's that?"

Knock Out stood up, too captivated by himself in the mirror to face his sparkmate. 

"With any luck, the Autobots won't have given you restricted access like I do," he said, turning left and then right to admire himself from different angles. The spot where Airachnid had pierced him was still slowly recovering and he grimaced when he noticed that the cracks were still healing. "So I want you to go to the bridge and give me full access to the Nemesis, that way, you and I can go for a little jaunt."

"Thought you said we weren't gonna leave here?" Breakdown asked as he walked up to Knock Out. He had picked up one of Knock Out’s back tires and began attaching it.

“We're not, not for long, anyway,” Knock Out said suavely. He glanced at Breakdown's reflection and smirked. " _You_ owe _me_ a drive.”

 

Knock Out raced ahead. Throwing his gearshift into third, then fourth gear, he roared his engine and pounded forwards. Faster, faster, it wasn't fast enough! He needed to feel the wind whip past him, deafening him until he couldn't hear anymore. 

This was freedom. The open sky above and nothing but road ahead of him. Not only was Breakdown back, not only had they had the most amazing frag and sparkmerge, but now Knock Out was also free to drive. Anywhere and everywhere, for however long he wanted with nothing to tell him otherwise. 

Instinctively, Knock Out checked his side mirrors. Breakdown was not in view and hadn't been for some time. So spinning and squealing his tires, Knock Out made a u-turn and now drove as fast as he could to catch up with his conjunx.

When Breakdown started to appear on the horizon, Knock Out grinned, pounding his engine even harder. Devilishly, he lined himself up with Breakdown in a game of chicken. 

Knock Out jerked his steering wheel and whipped out of the way. Breakdown never moved and he knew not to. It was all apart of Knock Out's fun to dive away at the last possible klick.

Playfully, he threw himself into a drift around Breakdown. Now on his right side he flicked his steering wheel into another drift, this time drifting in front of him while flashing his headlights flirtatiously. Back alongside Breakdown’s left, Knock Out drove close, trying to get as close as he could without touching.

He heard Breakdown chuckle. "You're such a flirt," he called him out.

Knock Out laughed and roared his engine enticingly. He hit reverse again so he could weave left and right behind Breakdown, zipping into view from one side mirror to the other. 

"Which side do I look better in?" he called excitedly, continuing to weave. "Trick question! I always look my best!" and he cackled loudly as he drove up next to Breakdown and paced with him.

"You're cute when you're having fun," Breakdown said and he slightly moved into Knock Out it an endearing nudge.

Knock Out was overjoyed by the gesture and returned it with a roar of his engine. "And you have a cute set of tail lights," he purred. "But I like them best when I can admire them on your aft!" and with another loud roar, he raced ahead, at a speed in which Breakdown could chase after him. 

They drove playfully with one another the rest of the way, both weaving around each other and losing themselves in their shared freedom on their drive until they reached the destination Knock Out had secretly been leading them to.

Although slowly eroding, raided and decrepit, the racing arena still evoked the powerful grandeur it had in the days before the war. Somehow, the building had survived all the bombings and stood as a remembrance to the glory days of Cybertron.

Knock Out transformed, but before all of his parts could even settle, he felt his spark lurche and a bought of motion sickness hit him hard. Dashing to a wall to brace himself, Knock Out crashed to his knee joints and hurled energon. Groaning, he held his spinning helm.

"Knock Out?!" Breakdown transformed and was soon by his side. He bent down and placed a servo on his back tire. "You okay?"

"Fine," Knock Out grumbled. He wiped his mouthplate and stood up cautiously. "My spark's still overwhelmed."

"From merging?" Breakdown asked. “I’m feeling okay…”

He followed Knock Out as they slid through the broken gates and down the main entrance halls. The lack of lights reminded Knock Out of his exploration of Garrus One. Although here, he knew he would be safe from any vampire insecticons. 

"Yes, but you weren't zipping around the entire way here,” Knock Out replied. He vaguely remembered walking these halls with Breakdown when they would come see the races. But it was the daylight that lead him towards the outdoor arena. “Oh, and it was pierced recently. I’m still recovering.”

“Pierced?” Breakdown called, concerned. He jogged up to Knock Out, keeping stride with him. “Some Autobot hurt you? I’ll-”

Knock Out waved a dismissive servo, “Airachnid, actually. She aimed to kill me but only caused it to caterwaul. I’m fine, really, except for these hideous cracks still healing.”

The arena outside was even bigger than Knock Out remembered it. Striding towards the railing in front of him, he swept the view, awestruck. He had never seen the arena completely empty before, it was somehow even more disturbing than the actual state of the building. Knock Out had seen many images and even explored his dead planet through the years of war, but somehow, standing here and knowing he and Breakdown were among just a handful of bots left on this planet humbled him. He had run away from this planet for years, but now, here it was, reminding him that of all the places he’d been, this planet would always be his home. 

“You didn’t tell me she tried to kill you too,” Breakdown said, settling next to Knock Out by the railing. 

“Are you jealous?” Knock Out taunted with a smirk. “Not as special as you thought, hm?”

But Breakdown did not join in the jest as Knock Out assumed he would. Instead Breakdown fell into silence as he, too, took in the sight of the arena below.

Feeling slightly sheepish from the failed tease, Knock Out slipped his servo within Breakdown’s. His long, slender digits fit easily between his lover’s, a perfect fit. He tugged Breakdown down the steps and gave him another smile.

“Watch me race,” he said exuberantly. “Clock me as I take a lap!”

And thankfully, Breakdown chuckled. That deep sound of his vocaliser excited Knock Out. “Go on, hot stuff,” Breakdown smirked, pushing Knock Out down the steps by his aft. “Show me what my mech can do!”

Eagerly, Knock Out left Breakdown in the stands as he pelted down the staircase and threw himself into his alt mode over the last few steps. He thudded onto the racetrack and immediately peeled out from under the starting banner. Leaving behind a cloud of smoke, Knock Out was off, his speedometre needle already fighting to reach his top speed.

From his side mirrors, he could see Breakdown waving him on becoming a distant dot. 

This was the perfect life, Knock Out caught himself thinking as he squealed around a tight turn. Just him and his conjunx, no bossy Decepticons, no pesky Autobots and no ungrateful Smokescreens. Everything in Knock Out’s life, he had done to ensure _this_ moment. It was as he told the Prime- he just wanted to live. Was that so wrong?

And what had the Prime told him? Something about greatest potential? Knock Out wasn’t sure, not within this moment as he threw his wheel left and right and left again, navigating through a series of winding turns. 

Well, Knock Out knew that his greatest potential could only be achieved with Breakdown by his side and the open road ahead of him.

Some of his sweetest memories were on Earth. During that time before he and Breakdown had been called to the _Nemesis_ , when they had been travelling all over Earth, wherever the roads led them. That was what Knock Out wanted to return to. Before the _Nemesis_ had ruined his life and stolen his sparkmate.

Eager to see Breakdown again, Knock Out his put his engine to work, picking up speed, rounding the last bend in a graceful drift towards the finish line.

Transforming, Knock Out used his forward momentum to throw himself up onto the stand’s railing. 

As soon as he settled, he felt his spark burn and he again felt the need to upheave energon, but he clamped a servo over his mouthplate, forcing himself to swallow in back down. It had been worth it though, he thought, as his spark settled within his chamber. So worth it to drive around the arena once.

“So is this it?” Breakdown grinned, running over to where Knock Out clung to. He wrapped his servos around Knock Out on the other side of the guard rail. “This is what you wanna do when Cybertron is all fixed up? Be a hot, glamourous racecar?”

Knock Out laughed and hooked his digit into Breakdown’s chassis, pulling him close. “Could you share me if I did? All of Cybertron would adore me!”

He could feel Breakdown’s grip around his waist tighten. “Don’t know if I could, babe.” Then he added with a chuckle, pushing his faceplate close to steal a kiss, “Not unless I’m involved too.”

“How venturesome, Breakdown,” Knock Out purred deeply, lightly tickling Breakdown’s chinguard. “But I warn you, none of these Autobots seem very _experimental_.”

Breakdown pulled his faceplate away making a grunt of disdain. “Don’t gross me out. Autobots? I’d rather rip out my own spark.”

But Knock Out laughed again. “I wouldn’t fret, darling,” he said. “I don’t see arena racing in my stars. Nobot tells _me_ when and where to drive.”

Breakdown fought to steal a playful kiss. “That’s my Knock Out. Just you and me going wherever we want, far away from here.”

“We’ll have to earn a living eventually, my love,” Knock Out said, lightly stroking Breakdown’s chassis. “Perhaps we’ll set up shop here in Iacon? A cosmetic surgery with you as my lovely assistant? Maybe a penthouse suite with a fully furnished pleasure room for the two of us?”

“ _If_ we’re welcome here,” Breakdown replied and shrugged. “This whole planet will be run by the Autobots.”

Knock Out’s optics flickered and he glanced away, Breakdown not noticing. He was about to respond when he noticed something else catch his attention, and change the conversation.

Slyly, he leaned close to Breakdown and gestured to his left with his helm. “Haven’t you ever wanted to see the inside of a restricted skybox? Come on, this might be our one chance to experience such a privilege.”

The prestigious skybox was only for the most wealthy and prestigious of bots when the arena had been in its heyday. Now, it had obviously been breached by bots of all kinds as it had been raided and stripped of any remaining luxury.

But even as Knock Out and Breakdown explored the enclosed room overlooking the arena and the invisible audience below, it still managed to impress them, a pair of bots who would never been able to set pede into such a place on any other occasion. Any valuable metal, cloth or decoration gone, the room looked bare, except for the grand seats by the windows. Immediately, Knock Out dashed over to them.

He settled into the most elaborate seat comfortably and surveyed the view. Breakdown stood next to him and a superior grin slowly spread onto Knock Out’s perfect, flawless faceplate.

“Service me,” he whispered devilishly. 

Without a word, Breakdown bent to one knee joint in front of Knock Out to perform the action but in a sudden change of thought, Knock Out reached out and cupped Breakdown under his chinguard. He stared straight into his mech’s single optic, his own mouthplate taunt.

“Do I say it enough?” he asked. He felt his chassis rise.

Breakdown did not respond right away but it was clear he understood the meaning. His optic flickered, then he said, “I know you do.”

But that wasn’t really an answer. His mouthplate parted in a silent surprise but inside, he knew the answer. He didn’t like it. 

“Knock Out…” Breakdown began with a stammer. “I never doubted you when I messed up. I just…” but he shook his helm, frustrated with himself. “We’re sparkmates.”

Knock Out nodded, his processor beginning to wander. Yes, they were sparkmates, but he understood now that just being sparkmates was not an excuse to never express himself. Because when he didn’t- his optics shifted mid-thought and, now distracted, he noticed his own reflection in the glass window.

It was funny, he thought, his train of thought now distracted. How he could look so stunning and yet feel so old. He could see it in his reflection. But it wasn’t in any physical trait of his, nothing visibly showed his millions of years. It was all there in his optics. His tired optics and his tired frown.

Through all those millions of years of self reflection, he never felt like he had aged so much as he had in the time in which he had been hailed to the Nemesis and his life had been taken for a wild ride, experiencing the Decepticon and Autobot war like he never had before. He even lost his sparkmate in the process. 

But now, the war over and nobot telling him what to do, Knock Out was able to just sit. Sit, vent and feel old.

“You’re right, you know,” he said.

He heard Breakdown shift in response, apprehensive with that phrase Knock Out rarely spoke.

“I made mistakes while we were on the Nemesis together,” Knock Out continued. 

“I’m not blaming-” Breakdown began softly, but Knock Out interrupted him.

“I didn’t handle myself as best I could,” he said. From his peripheral, Knock Out saw Breakdown studying him. To brace himself for what he was about to say, Knock Out found his optic’s fiery glow in the window and locked onto them. 

“I did flirt with Starscream,” he said, mouthplate grim. “I thought I could control the situation, that I could play him on my terms without having to hurt you. I just had to dangle the prize and pull it away. It was a game.” He grit his dentae. “We were so close. So close to being at the top. Breakdown, we’ve spent so much time on the run during this war, but when Starscream called us to the warship, we couldn’t hide anymore. We were forced to the forefront. Maybe if I were second in command, we could be safe and in control.

“But when things…” and he looked down at his servos he held up in front of him, “... were beyond my control, I wanted to run away. But we couldn’t. So I did it on my own, going out for drives, cleansing myself, but I found no meditation.” His mouthplate curled.

He felt his whole frame tense as he spoke. Admitting all these truths, it was against him, and he felt he had to fight with himself to get the words out. The Knock Out that stared back at him, the one in his reflection, was a vision of his past self. The one that had arrived at the _Nemesis_ , who thought he was in control but had ended up losing everything.

“Anyway,” Knock Out furrowed his brows forcefully. “We should have stuck closer together. I should have been aware of you drifting from me. I failed to protect us,” and he clenched his servos into tight, painful fists. “The Nemesis made me so sick. I _didn’t_ drink. I _didn’t_ cheat. But it didn’t matter because in avoiding all of that, I just ended up losing you anyway.”

“You’re beautiful, Knock Out.”

Since the first time he started speaking, Knock out looked directly at Breakdown.

“Yeah, I know _you_ know you’re beautiful,” Breakdown said, leaning back to view as much of Knock Out as he could. “But when you look at me like that, whether you’re smiling or not, that’s beautiful. The way you tilt your helm or your shoulders tense when you get excited, that’s beautiful too. How you laugh at all my puns and it’s real hardy laughter too. Like you really think I’m funny and you just fall into a fit of laughter, I love that about you. Or you drive off ahead of me and then drive back again for me… I couldn’t be happier with you as my sparkmate. Okay, so you’re difficult to handle,” he said with a grin, “a real sportscar, right? But even when you get upset, and you drink yourself into a mess or drive off without bringing me or even flirt with other mechs, it pisses me off, but I still think you’re beautiful.”

Knock Out felt his spark pulse. Compliments were among his favourite things, but one as genuine as this, well, it almost made him blush.

“The Nemesis really fragged us up,” Breakdown continued with a heavy venting sigh. “I did some scrap and maybe you say you could’ve done it better, but I still don’t blame you.” He paused, falling into what looked like a reflective silence. “I… I guess I paid for it, if she killed me like you say.”

In an unexpected move that took Breakdown by surprise, Knock Out slid to his knee joints out of the seat and leaned against him. Knock Out rested his helm and servos on Breakdown’s large chassis.

“Don’t ever leave me again,” Knock Out said, closing his optics.

He allowed a moment to pass as he listened to his sparkmate’s spark gently hum and pulse. He then felt Breakdown’s heavy arms wrap around his entire frame and press his faceplate close to Knock Out’s. 

Overcome, his own spark pulsing faster, Knock Out was unable to keep himself together any longer. Back in the safety of Breakdown’s hold after believing him gone forever, Knock Out finally allowed himself to sink and completely unravel like he had never been able to before.

“Breakdown,” he sighed, his words catching in his vocaliser. “When you died, my life… my life fell apart. You have no idea what it was like! You were gone,” he further buried his helm into his lover’s gracious chassis, “I had nobot. I was alone. I… I haven’t been alone since we split apart all those millions of years ago. Breakdown,” his servos trembled and he felt Breakdown hold him tighter, “How foolish I was. How could I have taken your presence for granted?”

Heaving from his outburst, he curled his servos and clawed at Breakdown as he relived all the memories.

“After you died, everything went to scrap,” Knock Out snarled. “I couldn’t accomplish anything anymore. I didn’t know what to do or how to cope without you! I-I failed missions and Megatron… he was on his last bolt with me. That’s when he gave me an insecticon ‘ _partner_ ’. That’s a laugh! He was mocking me you know,” he said fiercely. The rage of embarrassment stirred inside him, returning as if it had just occurred all over again. “Can you imagine, that disgusting primitive beast a replacement for you!? Megatron sent us on a mission in some human underground city! And… and… that’s where...”

“Where what?” Breakdown asked, sounding horrified.

“I was hit by a train!” Knock Out imploded. “It completely _massacred_ me! My finish! My finish was utterly destroyed! Utterly brutalised!” He patted his own chassis insistently. “You should have seen me, Breakdown! My paint was shredded, I-I was covered in dents! I was a visual _wreck_ and- _and_ I had failed Megatron on top of it!”

Breakdown hugged him close. “Oh, Knock Out, no, that’s terrible…”

“That’s not even the worst of it!” he cried, his energy not spent yet. “I had to fix myself _without_ you! I spent orns repairing myself and… and every hour I spent, every _astrosecond_ , I knew I would never have you again. I was a complete laughing stock! When I discovered Shockwave on Cybertron and brought him back to Megatron, do you know what he did?”

Breakdown shook his helm.

“He took away all of my experiments! All my research! And gave it to Shockwave! I was reduced to nothing but a mere assistant!” He settled back into Breakdown’s hold, allowing his lover’s touch to lull him out of the horrors of the past. “Breakdown…” he said softly. “I… I had become expendable. My life on the Nemesis was coming to an end, I could see it.”

All the while, Breakdown had been soothingly stroking his bio lights. But suddenly, his servos hesitated.

“What happened?”

Knock Out whispered the truth, “The Autobots had a chance.”

There was silence. Then Breakdown said, “You turned then?”

“No,” Knock Out said, pushing himself to look up at him. “But I helped them when we captured their medic. I was up against a corner, you have to understand.” Then he added bitterly, “Even Starscream thought he could scratch up my finish again. It reminded me, you know, when he did it again.”

“Reminded you of what?” Breakdown asked.

“He scratched my paint too many times,” Knock Out said with a wicked sneer, “It was time I owed him one in return.”

Breakdown exuded a huff of air. “Knock Out, I don’t know what life is gonna be like with these Autobots and I can’t say I like it but if things turn to scrap, promise me we’ll run away together, okay?” and he embraced Knock Out again.

He could feel the love he had felt from their merge. It was all fresh in his processor and it was almost like he was experiencing it all over again, just from the sound of Breakdown’s vocaliser alone. 

Gently, Breakdown pulled himself from Knock Out and before he could protest, Breakdown leaned in and kissed him softly. 

Knock Out’s spark fluttered and he lost himself in the gentility of the kiss. They kissed more, Breakdown leading each one with a caressing embrace that Knock Out fell into. Finally, Breakdown rested the crown of his helm against Knock Out’s.

Their mouthplates barely a width away, feeling each other’s venting air, Knock Out whispered, “I’d do anything for you, Breakdown.”

“You’re right,” his sparkmate spoke with a hypnotic tone. “Whatever it takes to survive, Knock Out. You did good.”

Relieved by Breakdown’s approval he pushed into another kiss. 

Breakdown chuckled, a servo behind Knock Out’s helm to keep him close. “Hey, maybe when we get back and if you don’t have any whiny Autobots to fix, maybe we can have some fun, huh? Maybe you can hog-tie me up and get your energon prod out and-”

But something behind Breakdown caught Knock Out’s attention. Noticing he was distracted, Breakdown, too, turned around to look down at the arena below. In the centre, a groundbridge was generating and a silhouette stepped through. 

Rising to his pedes, Knock Out pressed himself against the glass to see the figure below. 

“Well, well,” he said so quietly Breakdown might not have heard him. “This is certainly interesting.”

Their private tryst over, Knock Out lead the way back down the steps to greet the mech who waited for them. Even as Knock Out took his time striding down between the rows of spectator seats, he could recognise the familiar signs of Smokescreen’s uncomfortable fidgeting. The twittering doors on his back, a clear dead giveaway that he dreaded the inevitable conversation. Well, he wasn't the only one.

“So good to see you, my boy!” Knock Out called as jovial as he could from across the arena. “We would have invited you on our outing if I had known you wanted to hang out with your old folks.”

Smokescreen gave him a dubious look. “Look, Ultra Magnus wants you guys to head back. They’re gonna have a trial for,” he faltered, “for you.” And he made a feeble gesture at Breakdown.

“Trial?” Breakdown asked.

Knock Out rolled his optics dismissively. “Just a formality, I’m sure.” But when he looked back at Breakdown, he noticed that like before when they had all run into each other in the hallway, Breakdown and Smokescreen both could not stop staring at each other. Knock Out furrowed his brows.

“Did you like my package?” Knock Out interrupted the two mechs.

“Hu-wha?” Smokecreen twitched. 

“All the image cards and videos from your upbringing with us,” Knock Out said, taking delight that he had the upper servo for a change. “He looks exactly like he did as a newspark, doesn’t he Breakdown?”

However, Breakdown did not comprehend that Knock Out was delighting in embarrassing Smokescreen. He nodded with a genuine smile, looking Smokescreen over.

“Yeah,” Breakdown agreed. “I mean, asides from the paint job. You look exactly the same. It’s… uh, it’s something I never thought we’d see since we thought you died in the war.”

Was that the slightest of grimaces on Smokescreen’s faceplate, Knock Out wondered. 

“Indeed, a mirror image,” Knock Out agreed with a false smile. “Breakdown, do you recall when he used _beg_ me to pick him up carry him around like he was flying?”

Yes, Smokescreen did wince, but only Knock Out caught it.

“I think we had a video of that,” Breakdown said, becoming more excited. “What videos did you watch? Knock Out, did you show him the one where we took him to his first race?”

“All of them!” Knock Out replied. He shot Smokescreen a look and made sure he saw it. “It was this very arena where we took those videos of him on our laps.”

“I bet you two come here and go racing all the time!” Breakdown exclaimed. He took a step towards Smokescreen, who looked like the only reason he didn’t take a step back, was because he was rooted out of fear. “So, come on, fess up, who wins?”

Smokescreen’s mouthplate opened but he said nothing.

“He always lets me win,” Knock Out lied with a cocky lift of his brow ridge. 

“We don’t,” Smokescreen abruptly cut in. But when he looked straight at Breakdown, he stopped midsentence. “We don’t really have a lot of free time. I work a lot. Usually with Bulkhead-”

“What do you mean?” Breakdown jumped on the mention of his rival. His optics narrowed and Knock Out recognised hostility surfacing. “Doesn’t he know what Bulk did to me? Didn’t you fill him in, Knock Out?”

“Hadn’t the time,” Knock Out said, placing both servos on his hips.

“You’ve been spending time with _Bulkhead?_ ” Breakdown clenched his servos and steadied himself. “I know you don’t know what he did, but you gotta know-”

“ _Stop._ Enough.” 

Both Knock Out and Breakdown were completely taken aback.

Smokescreen puffed himself up. “Bulkhead is my _friend_. He’s been there for me. I mean, you,” he gestured at Knock Out. “All you do is try to control me and you,” he pointed to Breakdown. The two locked optics and Smokescreen paused in his conviction, but it only lasted a klick. With narrowed optics, he announced, “I don’t _know_ you.” 

Breakdown looked as if he had just been struck. 

“But what I _do_ know,” Smokescreen continued, taking a step back towards the groundbridge, “is that you’re both ‘cons.”

“Smokescreen,” Breakdown said, taking a step towards his heir. “We searched everywhere for you during the war. We always wanted you to know us.”

But Smokescreen shook his helm. “Well, I wish I’d never known!” he declared. “ _I’m_ an Autobot. I _always_ have been.” 

And he turned his back on them, striding through the groundbridge at a controlled pace.

Knock Out avoided looking at Breakdown. Instead, he locked onto the groundbridge, a snarl suppressed. The impetuous young bot did it again. But now, Breakdown had to experience it too. This is exactly what Knock Out wanted to save him from and that frustrating newspark of his didn’t have the tact or empathy to treat Breakdown with respect- and he was the bot Smokescreen actually ‘ _remembered_ ’ as his sire too. 

Knock Out wanted to say something, make a joke, lighten the atmosphere, but the anxiety of the situation gripped him speechless. 

“Guess I’m not too surprised he takes after you, huh?”

Knock Out shuttered his optics out of surprise. “Come again?”

Breakdown nudged him with his arm. “A feisty racecar just like you.”

Knock Out frowned. “You’re not mad?” he asked.

“Mad at him?” Breakdown repeated. “He’s my only spark of my spark. What can we expect when he’s been raised by _Autobots?_ ”

“Then what about the package of videos and images I sent him?” Knock Out crossed his arms. “All of it evidence without doubt he was ours!”

“It’s not proof he needs,” Breakdown replied, almost sneering. “He doesn’t hate us. He’s right, he doesn’t even know me or you. It’s ‘cons he hates and I can only imagine what _Bulkhead’s_ been saying, filling my heir’s processor with scrap. I expect he’s been told to hate us from the day he was stolen.” He drew himself up into a confident stance. “He’s just gotta learn the truth about us- _and_ about Bulkhead.”

Then he strode past Knock Out and through the groundbridge. 

Alone, Knock Out allowed himself to exude a long vent of air. Well, he had been right. Breakdown didn’t throw Smokescreen for rejecting him. No, there had been no outburst of any kind, for that matter, anger or anguish. 

But he wish there had been. Because right now, taking Breakdown up on that offer to drive away to Earth seemed real sweet right about now.

 

**_(The Flashback. . . During the War)_ **

 

“I’m Sparkmerging!!”

Breakdown’s vocaliser was drowned out by all the noise. Coming to a halt, he looked all around the wreck-room for his friend. There were plenty of familiar faces hanging around, beating on punching blocks and lifting weights, everybot boisterously chatting with their buddies. So Breakdown weaved around the room until he spotted Bulkhead dishing out a beating to a punching block in the corner.

“Bulk!” Breakdown grinned as he approached. “I’ve got some great news! You’re gonna love it- guess what?”

“Whoah, what? Slow down!” Bulkhead slammed one last punch into the punching block before transforming his weapon back into a servo. "What’s all the excitement about? You look like we just won the war or something!”

“I’m sparkmerging!” Breakdown blurted out through a grin.

Bulkhead’s brow ridges almost flew off helm. He froze for a klick then grabbed Breakdown in and smacked him on the back. 

“Well, congratulations!” he let out a loud, hardy laugh. “I can’t believe it! You two have been dating for years!” Bulkhead laughed again. “We’re gonna have to go out for drinks after this! So was it you who finally popped the question?”

Breakdown shrugged, chuckling, “Well I gotta story about that!”

“Haha!” Bulkhead crowed and turned around to give the punching block a huge smack with his fist. “I never thought you’d have the ball bearings to ask! You sly mech! You two are perfect for each other!” He gave another congratulatory jab into Breakdown’s shoulder plating. “So tell me all about it! I bet she nearly popped a gasket!”

Breakdown’s grin faltered. “Oh, yeah. Uh, I broke up with her.”

Bulkhead’s own smile was fading. “Huh? Since when?”

Breakdown shifted uneasily. “Since just now.”

“What..?” Bulkhead frowned. “So… who are you sparkmerging with? You’re leaving me a little confused here, Break. I didn’t know you were seeing two femmes at once?”

Suddenly, Breakdown had lost some of his momentum. “Well…” he began, forcing himself to swagger proudly. “You remember when we lived at the construction tower? And I was with a bot, name was Knock Out-”

“Wait, wait… that _seeker_ you had living with you?” Bulkhead’s optics widened. “ _Him?_ ” He froze, as if his vocaliser was caught in his pipes. “No… no, you gotta call your girl back! You gotta tell her you were just hungover or something! She really liked you!”

Breakdown tossed his shoulders, agitation starting to show. “So? What’s the big deal?” he replied with a grimace. “Why- cos Knock Out’s a mech or something?”

“No!” Bulkhead hastily amended. “You know that doesn’t matter, I… I just don’t trust _him._ Come on, he’s the reason you ended up in jail! They even added drug possession charges because that seeker had crystals stashed away in _your_ suite. Am I the only bot who sees this? It was because of him-”

“-that I’m happy again.” Breakdown puffed out his chassis.

Bulkhead’s expression was difficult for Breakdown to read. “This… this is a big decision…” Bulkhead said quietly, “And you know you want to be _sparkmates_ with this mech? Isn’t this all kinda fast?”

“We were together for years,” Breakdown stated firmly. He clenched his servos. “And I’ve missed him ever since.”

“You’ve also been _apart_ for years,” Bulkhead began but Breakdown cut him off.

“Why?” he pressed, taking an aggressive stomp forwards. “Why won’t you come? You’re my _friend_.” 

“I just…” Although Bulkhead floundered, he didn’t at all seem intimidated by Breakdown’s increasingly hostile attitude. He just rubbed the back of his helm and let out a long sigh. “I’m just trying to look out for my _best_ friend.”

But Breakdown let out a huff, he could feel his venting rate increase. Sure, he was taken aback by Bulkhead’s resistance and yes, he was highly aware of his friend’s disdain for Knock Out, but he thought Bulkhead’s attitude would have changed when he knew it was a _sparkmerge_. That maybe Knock Out wasn’t trying to take advantage of him afterall. 

“Then as my _best friend_ , why aren’t you happy for me?” Breakdown asked. He lifted his chinguard. “I choose Knock Out and he chose me. You’re just gonna have to get used to it. So right now, tell me,” and he narrowed his optics, locking them with Bulkhead. “Are you gonna come to my sparkmerging ceremony or not?”

 

" _Watch the finish!!_ " Knock Out snarled and heaved himself off the damp ground to behold the damage done to his beautiful frame. Instantly, he recoiled, scandalised by the faint scratches done to him when he had hit the ground. "Look at what you've done! And-" he then saw the unconscious frame of a mech faceplate down in a puddle. "That was my _client!_ I was about to-"

He stopped mid speech when he turned to verbally berate the bot who had just interrupted his deal.

Well, it was the last bot Knock Out ever expected to see again in his life.

Within the shadows of the alley, his yellow optics piercing through the darkness and his silhouette lit from behind, unmistakably, it was Breakdown.

It had been how many years since Knock Out had last seen his ex-boyfriend? Many. His last vision of his ex was seeing him brutaly beaten unconscious by police and laying on the floor as energon pooled from his wounds.

Suddenly, Knock Out had lost all ability to complain about his finish and just stared completely taken aback by this ghost of his past.

Breakdown, too, had not spoken or moved. Finally, Knock Out heard that vocaliser, the same one he heard in his dreams on some nights. It was exactly how he remembered it too: low, deep and somehow, even after all those years, it gave Knock Out a sense of comfort in the form of a sensation that travelled through his whole frame putting him at ease.

All that from the two words Breakdown said: "You ok?"

Knock Out jolted and looked down at his faint scuffs to his frame. "I could have handled him myself," he said, now staring at his unconscious client. "He may have gotten the jump on me but that doesn't mean I wasn't prepared," and he transformed his servo into a saw to illustrate his point.

Breakdown nodded. 

There was a pause between them yet somehow it wasn't awkward. Perhaps neither of them knew what to say, but at the same time, neither of them made a move to leave. All the memories, and emotions tied to them, came flooding back and suddenly, Knock Out had been transported back in time. 

"You called me your conjunx endura," Knock Out blurted out. 

Breakdown shutterd his optics in surprise. 

"Did you mean it?" Knock Out pressed unable to control the words coming from his mouthplate. When Breakdown did not respond, his spark began to pulse wildly inside his chassis.

"I was gonna ask you," Breakdown replied. There was something about him, in the way that he stood. Knock Out could see it, a nervousness in Breakdown, yet he stood his ground. "I thought about it, when you were getting your t-cog put back in and I didn't know if you were gonna make it. I thought about you and how you made me happy. That I didn't want to be without you." He paused, looked to the side, then said, "I was gonna take you out. Ask you properly."

Knock Out had thought about this, many times over the years since he had never returned to that tower. He would think, sometimes as he worked, sometimes as he laid in his berth alone trying to power down and sometimes while he interfaced with other mechs, his processor wandering to the long-ago memory of The One Time somebot... somebot from the past had been so close to him, as no other ever had been, close enough to know him and call him his _conjunx endura._

Had that bot really meant it? Knock Out would ask himself. Had a bot really wanted him for a conjunx? Or had it just been a diversion, an attempt for him to gain some sympathy from the policebots? Did it matter what the answer was? Knock Out couldn't answer that.

"Would you have?" Breakdown asked, "If I asked you?"

Knock Out did not falter when he said, "No."

Breakdown tensed. "Sorry I ruined your sales pitch," he mumbled, gesturing to the unconscious bot on the ground. Breakdown turned to walk out of the alley.

"I would have said no," Knock Out explained to Breakdown's retreating back. "But I wouldn't have left." Breakdown stopped walking. Knock Out felt a surge rise in his chassis. "Don't you remember? I couldn't even leave when I had the chance," he said, "I saw the open door as the policebots beat you. I told myself to leave but I didn't. Couldn't. Even then. I... " he flexed his digits. Emotions he did not experience often now made themselves known to him. "I liked what we had."

Breakdown turned around. "You think being conjunx would've changed what we had?"

"No," Knock Out said for a second time. "But I didn't understand us back then."

Breakdown frowned. "What's that mean?"

"I never had somebot whose entire world revolved around me," Knock Out said. He had realised all this overtime through his years apart from Breakdown. But never had he imagined he would have to say it out loud, let alone to Breakdown himself. "Before I met you, I only experienced being the best thing for a night and I thought that was enough. It was fun. Then you came into my life and it was about me all the time," he would not look away as he admitted, "I loved that you loved me."

Breakdown said nothing, but his restless shifting and clenching of servos spoke volumes. “You told me you loved me,” Breakdown said. “Were you just saying anything to move in with me?” 

Knock Out’s spark must’ve been halfway in his vocaliser at that point because he definitely choked as he said, “I had never been in a relationship before! I was young, just a few cycles into adulthood but even back then I knew I was drawn in because of _you_. Do you think any other mech could do that to me? Oh, I have turned down bots who thought they loved me. But believe me, if it had been some other mech- any other mech and not you-” he shook his helm, “I would never have moved in, never have stayed, never have stayed when…” he wavered when he realised where this was going. 

Breakdown did not look away and Knock Out, for the first time ever, found himself intimidated by him. “Yeah? And what about _him?_ ” Knock Out tensed, perhaps even flinched. "Did you ever care about him? Ever? About your own-"

"Yes."

Breakdown said nothing.

The lack of belief nearly insulted Knock Out and internally he struggled to keep himself from displaying any signs of anger. "You were left in the tower that night, but it didn't end there for me," his vocaliser slowly lulled into a quiet soliloquy. "He _cried_ the entire time, all the way back to the station. Even while one of the policebots beat me. Through the punches, I could see one of them holding him, holding him in front of his own _sire, allowing_ this newspark to witness this, to cry and reach and yet do utterly nothing! Yes, I was thrown into a cell, cuffed and bleeding, unable to move from my injuries. But do you know what happened when they left the room?” He could see it play through his optics as vividly as yesterday. “They left him in the room and, crying, he crawled to _me_." A snarl curled onto his mouthplate. "But he couldn't fit through the bars. I had to watch as he sat there screaming, reaching through the bars for _me_. I stared at him. I couldn't move. Not even to touch him with a digit."

Another pause of silence. Knock Out had been looking at the ground for awhile now, avoiding even his own perfect reflections in the puddles at his pedes. 

"Of course I cared. His whole world revolved around _me_ ," he said, vocaliser a whisper.

"Yeah," Breakdown agreed. "Mine too. Was it ever about either of us?"

Knock Out pursed his mouthplate, then said, "Breakdown, I have only ever felt love once.” 

Breakdown's optics shifted and he shook his helm. "Then why did you never come back?"

"I was angry," Knock Out said. 

"It was my fault," Breakdown said, surprising Knock Out by the sudden turn of self-blame. "I brought him between us. I should've turned him in when he was just a sparkling. I never should have taken him home. I learned a lesson," Breakdown spoke firmly. "And I should've come to bail you out. I messed things up. I was too ashamed to come get you. I lost you because of my mistake. Knock Out, you were the best thing that ever happened to me.”

There was something in the way that Breakdown talked to him, it all felt natural to Knock Out. It was unlike other bots in his life and it intrigued him; he wanted more. Knock Out could have walked away then and there, but he couldn't do it. Just like that night where everything had gone wrong and Knock Out told himself to flee out the open door, here he stood again, unable to part from Breakdown.

And Breakdown had to feel the same, he noted, for he too made no move to leave. Knock Out could have cockily convinced himself that of course nobot wanted to leave his presence, but instead genuine flattery surfaced.

"As it would seem, we have far too much history to cover in the comfort of this 'beautiful' alley, wouldn't you agree?" Knock Out stepped forwards, gesturing broadly with confidence towards Breakdown. "So, would you care to continue this chat back at my place?"

Breakdown looked surprised. "Now?" he asked.

Knock Out could have made him wait. Could have played games and really made Breakdown work for his attention, but it was a game Knock Out did not want to play.

"I thought you missed me?" Knock Out teased, sauntering past him, suddenly enthrilled with excitement of being around this mech. So thrilled, that a slight flitter of anxiety rushed inside him when he toyed with the idea that Breakdown might say no.

But he soon heard Breakdown's pedesteps following him. Knock Out grinned.

At the end of the alley, Knock Out transformed, displaying to Breakdown for the first time, his new alt mode. Instead of hovering in the air on a pair of seeker wings, he was now a sleek and extravagant sportscar, the alt mode he had always dreamed of. 

He noticed from his side mirrors that Breakdown hesitated from surprise, but without a word, he transformed into the same vehicle mode he had from their past.

With a loud declaration of his engine, Knock Out raced forwards, knowing he would impress. He raced ahead along the streets at a dangerous enough speed Breakdown could still keep up with. Weaving around the other vehicles on the road, he led Breakdown through the city and towards the upscale towers that made up the fancy district of Translucentica Heights. 

Reaching the tower he called home, Knock Out transformed and led Breakdown inside. 

"You live here, huh?" Breakdown asked, looking out the clear glass elevator windows. The dazzling multi-coloured neon lights on the buildings around them reflected off the glass in a spectacular view

"Impressive?" Knock Out announced proudly. "I'm paid rather decently." 

Breakdown leaned to look down at the ground they were leaving below. 

"Is it worth it?" Breakdown replied, watching the rising skyline. 

"I have no regrets," Knock Out said. But he faltered, not interested in the city view as Breakdown. Instead, all he could look at was the lie in front of him. 

When they reached the top floor, Knock Out slipped his servo within Breakdown’s. “Come,” he said, a playful smirk on his faceplate. “For once, allow me to show you where _I_ reside,” and he led Breakdown down the hall and into his suite.

It was far larger than anywhere Knock Out had lived before, including Breakdown’s suite back at the construction tower. Spacious with modern design, the entire suite was surrounded by glass walls. Yet the suite still found privacy by its ridiculous height. 

Proud of his achievement and even prouder that Breakdown could see him now, successful and living the life he had always wanted for himself, Knock Out strode into the centre of the room, surrounded by all of his favourite things.

“Welcome to my home,” he exclaimed, jubilant.

He studied Breakdown as he wandered into the room, looking about himself.

“Isn’t it luxurious!?” Knock Out enthused, rushing over to the window. “And get a load of my view! You see that tower over there? That’s where I work.” 

Translucentica Heights below had never been more beautiful to him. He had worked so hard to achieve all of this, and now, Breakdown could finally see him as he had always wanted to be with this extravagant home and his lustrous new alt mode. 

"You look beautiful."

Knock Out stirred by Breakdown’s vocaliser. He didn't move as Breakdown approached. Nor as he boldly reached out and ran his servos along Knock Out's arm.

"It's you, isn't it?" he asked, vocaliser soft.

Entranced by those yellow optics, Knock Out nodded. "Shedding those wings is all I ever wanted," he said with honesty. "This is me, it always was."

Breakdown leaned in to kiss but just as their mouthplates were a mere width apart, Knock Out whispered alluringly, "Make me feel beautiful. Now."

But Breakdown stammered. "I... no."

He could feel his spark thud inside him.

"Why?" Knock Out pressed, trying to look as seductive as he could. But his desperation was already showing. “Why else would you accept my invitation here?"

Breakdown hesitated more. "I want to," he blurted out. He rested both servos on either of Knock Out's arms. "Frag, I want to. But, Knock Out, I don't know where this is gonna go."

Knock Out frowned, chuckling nervously. "‘Going to go?’" he repeated. 

Breakdown shut his optics tight for a moment then sighed. "I’ve gotta leave."

"Don't be ridiculous," Knock Out scoffed, but internally he was starting to panic. He couldn't believe this mech was making him feel so out of control. "You want me."

Then Breakdown countered back, "Do you want _me?_ "

"Yes!" Knock Out felt even more confused. "That's why I invited you here! We're both adults, isn't it obvious I want to int-"

"I still love you."

Knock Out shut his mouthplate.

Breakdown shook his helm and let go of him. "I still love you. Seeing you, being with you, it's all coming back. Damn, Knock Out, it's like I just wanna pick up where we left off."

"Is that bad?" Knock Out asked quietly.

Breakdown jerked back. "Where we left off, things were _serious_. Where we left of..." and Knock Out could feel the despondent look of Breakdown's resonate within his own spark, "... was me saying I wanted us to be _sparkmates._ ”

Knock Out tightened his servos into fists to hide his trembling servos. “Breakdown, don’t leave me.”

But the ache on Breakdown's face only spread. "I can't do this."

" _Don’t_ go," Knock Out insisted. "Didn't you hear me in the alley? I said I missed you- you.” He gritted his dentae as he realised just how candid he was about to become. “When you left, that's when I knew that all that time I had been taking what we had for granted. I was _in love_ and,” he smiled weakly, “I don’t even know what it means. But I knew it was a feeling whenever I was with you. Your optics, your smile, your laugh and your stupid puns. How you touch me or look at me, or how you walk or speak or even shutter! You, Breakdown! _You._ I don't understand love, but I know what it is whenever I think of you."

Love was so complicated for his processor, what it was and what it meant, but all Knock Out really knew was, "I don't want to live without you by my side again. Isn’t that love?"

"What are you saying?" Breakdown asked.

"Stay," he insisted.

Breakdown still did not hold him and it drove Knock Out crazy. "You wanna get back together?" Breakdown asked.

"I want to pick up where we left off," Knock Out said, then quoted: “and where we left off, things were serious.”

Breakdown’s optics were reading him. They were so close again and that thrill that rushed through his frame, that tingle as it travelled and made his spark pulse faster and faster consumed him. This was love. Love was wanting Breakdown, was missing Breakdown, thinking of him and feeling at utter ease with him nearby. He had lost him once, but he refused to walk away again. 

"Love with me tonight," he purred, fluttering his optics.

Finally, Breakdown rested his servos around Knock Out’s waist. "Primus, help me. I’m in love with you, Knock Out. First time I’ve seen you in years and I’m in love again."

A small smile slowly dawned on Knock Out’s faceplate. He drew Breakdown close into a fierce kiss. Immediately, Breakdown kissed him back, if not more passionately. His arms wrapped around Knock Out tightly and soon they were kissing over and over, more fiercely with every press. Blindly, Breakdown pushed him towards the bench where they fell onto each other. With each kiss, Knock Out felt himself light up, filling him with passion.

"How do you do that?" Knock Out's asked softly.

"Do what?" Breakdown asked, his vocaliser husky. 

“Make me feel this way.” Captivated by Breakdown’s frame, Knock Out’s optics swept him all over. “ _Love, _” he sang the word as he trailed his digits lightly along Breakdown’s broad chassis above him.__

__Breakdown kissed the back of Knock Out’s servo before delving back ontop of him to seek more kisses. They continued to make out on the bench, but it wasn’t long before Breakdown hoisted Knock Out into his arms and carried him into the berthroom._ _

__Once again, Knock Out found himself beneath Breakdown, succumbing to the wondrous experience of Breakdown’s servos exploring his frame. Familiar servos finding their favourite spots, settling in on them from old memories._ _

__But before Breakdown could get too comfortable, Knock Out chuckled. “This is fun, darling, but let me remind you what I can do.”_ _

__He expertly slid out from beneath Breakdown and settled himself on top. Stealing a moment before meeting, Knock Out gazed down at Breakdown. He knew he had Breakdown mesmerised by his own optics, he could even feel them positively radiate with red passion._ _

__As soon as he lowered himself, his frame found rhythm, so natural and eager. Shutting his optics, Knock Out lost himself completely within Breakdown. Excitedly, he explored the wandering feeling that arose all throughout his frame. With other mechs, it was all about Knock Out and feeding what he craved. But with Breakdown, and he slid his optics open to look down at him, there was so much more to play with._ _

__It was a shared experience, and that was somehow even more fun._ _

__He found himself burning with a curiosity for Breakdown’s frame, so Knock Out ran his servos wandered onto Breakdown. Every part of him was arousing. It drove Knock Out to seek more, faster, harder and without inhibition. Together, they worked in rhythm, something he would consider a trap that he would never normally allow himself to fall into._ _

__Because Knock Out always demanded and commanded from all of his partners. There was never any inclination in his processor to share anything. Any mech he played with was just another toy, a toy that praised his talent, beauty and pleasure and that’s exactly what Knock Out wanted them to be, never anything more. It fueled him and surely that was enough to live._ _

__But Breakdown, of course, he was different. He could do all of that and more. He could fill Knock Out’s frame and spark with pleasure, fill every desire he had, but there was something else he could do- something Knock Out never realised he wanted._ _

__Because he had been wrong. It wasn’t love he was in love with, he had been too self-absorbed to even realise that it was not love itself, but Breakdown he had wanted all these years._ _

__With Breakdown, it was all enough. Right here, right in this moment as Knock Out allowed his servos to explore his frame to emphasise his beauty to Breakdown watching beneath, Knock Out was complete._ _

__This satisfaction pumped an exhilarated ecstasy in him, teasing him to come out of his world of self seeking pleasure and join with the only mech he had ever fallen for. Knock Out’s engine purred and he felt himself lost in an emotion that he absolutely revelled in. Yes, that _love_ feeling was now all over inside him, driving him faster with Breakdown in a furious gratification. _ _

__As he rode himself up and down, Knock Out leaned forwards, stroking his lover’s faceplate with a gentle caress. He whimpered when Breakdown clamped his servos on either side of his hips, guiding him harder down._ _

__“Breakdown,” Knock Out gasped, running a longing servo down his own chassis. “Watch me…”_ _

__Breakdown fluttered his beautiful soft yellow optics open, looking him up and down._ _

__“You make me feel so beautiful,” Knock Out said flirtatiously. He lunged down, arching his back into a lustrous moan, his servo at his own pipes._ _

__Those servos of Breakdown’s riding his waist now trailed up his back along his biolights, causing Knock Out to shiver and lean straight up. This movement, he saw, made Breakdown grit his dentae from the rush of pleasure. Excited by this, Knock Out stretched his frame, his arms thrown back and glided himself up and down slowly._ _

__He heard Breakdown utter a groan, pushing his hips harder upwards hitting Knock Out just right. He gasped, his optics widening in surprise._ _

__“You’re blushing, baby,” Breakdown chuckled._ _

__“Only virgins blush,” Knock Out said, vocaliser deep. But he was. He could feel it, his own faceplate tinged. He grinned indulgently regardless as he skillfully rode Breakdown in a fanciful dance._ _

__As if taking that to be a challenge, Breakdown’s tipped Knock Out back, back further until he found that spot that sent Knock Out into a dizzying fervor. The euphoria rushing up into him caused him to inevitably collapse onto Breakdown._ _

__Gasping again as he moved his frame, he opened his optics and found that Breakdown’s was gazing at him in such a way that Knock Out felt himself utterly devoted._ _

__He moaned softly as Breakdown began to thrust with more control and drive._ _

__“I lied,” Knock Out whispered. These two words instantly caught Breakdown’s attention, as he knew they would. Entranced by those yellow optics, he ran his servo down and over Breakdown’s chassis, shuddering from the rolling pleasure seizing him as they thrust against each other. “I do have one regret.”_ _

__“Does it matter?” Breakdown managed to say. His arms wrapped tight around Knock Out, forcing him to ride harder._ _

__Condensation ran down Knock Out’s faceplate and he shut his optics, focusing only on the feeling of Breakdown inside him. He lifted a servo and gently stroked Breakdown’s faceplate with the backs of his sharp digits._ _

__“Yes,” he vented out. “Because it’s _you_.”_ _

__Knock Out transformed his chassis, revealing his searing red spark._ _

__Breakdown’s movements slowed dramatically. The red glow reflecting off his shocked expression. He looked completely awe stricken at this sight he had never seen before, except for perhaps in his dreams._ _

__But Knock Out did not falter. He tilted his helm, pleased with himself._ _

__“You called me your conjunx endura,” he said, running his servos along his frame. It fed his confidence and his conviction as he sang what he felt within his spark. “You want me, Breakdown. And I want you. Let’s have no more regrets, nothing else get in our way. There’s a war going on out there, afterall. So become my one and only conjunx endura and love with me every night.”_ _

__Breakdown met him in the optics and Knock Out could see the answer in them before Breakdown could even speak._ _

__“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Knock Out,” Breakdown said and he delivered one sweet kiss to Knock Out’s servo. “I won’t let anything get between us, I’m never making that mistake again.”_ _

__Then he transformed his own chassis, revealing the most beautiful sight Knock Out had ever seen. It was every bit as miraculous as Knock Out imagined. The yellow, just like Breakdown’s own optics lured Knock Out closer. Being in the raw presence of this spark made his own thrive stronger, burning to unite into the yellow._ _

__“I love you, Knock Out,” Breakdown vented out._ _

__“Good,” Knock Out whispered as he leaned over Breakdown, bringing himself closer. “Because I have never stopped loving you.”_ _

__And they merged._ _

__It blinded Knock Out. All he saw was red and yellow and just as it hit him hard, it washed through his whole frame like a purifying wave. He could feel the warmth of Breakdown’s spark settle into every part of him. The feel of another spark among his electrified him with a rapturous need for more._ _

__Spreading from beyond his spark to the top of his helm to the tips of his pedes, the sensation was so utterly overwhelming that he struggled to keep riding. Clinging to Breakdown, Knock Out closed his optics and focused hard on grinded down. But somehow, as he relinquished the conscious fight, a simple and beautiful balance surfaced. Lust and love merged naturally and Knock Out released his tension, allowing it to overpower them both._ _

__For the first time ever, Knock Out was no longer just himself. From the moment he had been sparked and transformed into a newspark, he had been confident in his who he was. He knew for certain that he never needed anybot else unless it be for his own means for fun._ _

__But for the first time, Knock Out understood how sharing his spark was more amazing than he ever thought it would be. Elation crackled inside him as their merged sparks pulsed with one another. Yes, Knock Out wanted Breakdown to feel everything about him- who he was and just how much love he felt for this mech._ _

__No other mech was like Breakdown. No other mech made Knock Out smile with a genuine simple happiness. Everything about Breakdown captivated Knock Out. The way he smiled, the way he talked, his scent and his presence. The way he accepted everything about Knock Out, all his little imperfections and personality ticks. It never mattered what Knock Out said or did, Breakdown wanted him for who he was and the feeling was entirely mutual._ _

__Breakdown consumed his thoughts and truth be told, it made him blush and twist. Under any other circumstance, Knock Out would feel himself embarrassed for behaving so naively._ _

__As their sparks churned and explored one another, Knock Out made a move to embrace in a kiss but instead he shivered from another sensory rush. Breakdown wrapped his arms tight around Knock Out and he felt himself melt into the embrace._ _

__This was the best he had ever felt._ _

__But it could be better still, for as they merged, their sparks built on one another and together, they hit that final shared epiphany._ _

__Knock Out gasped in shock and Breakdown shuddered underneath. It was like their sparks had burst but their was no pain, only a surge of raw honesty for everything they felt for one another. Harmoniously, it resonated through them both, uniting them for its composed climax._ _

__With this echoing through his entire frame, Knock Out released everything, frame and spark into Breakdown and the same was returned to him by Breakdown. All of this hung in a moment of time, so memorable and meaningful for the rest of his future life that it felt like it lasted the whole night. But tranquility fell onto them with a tender grace that only after it had him, Knock Out realised he was lulled._ _

__Dazed and amazed, Knock Out lay still. He only felt as his spark, completely enraptured in the high of the pinnacle of their joining, settled back down within him._ _

__Knock Out was in love. He was more than just in love, he was now a conjunx endura, a shared spark. As long as if he was with Breakdown, he had no regrets._ _

__

__In the morning, Knock Out awoke, laying flat on his back. He stared at the ceiling._ _

__Who knew one mech would come into his life and make him feel that he wanted another bot in his life to love besides himself._ _

__Shutting his optics, he listened to his spark. It felt giddy and satisfied after its first merge, both blissful and fresh as it pulsed._ _

__He was blushing again. It put a smile to his faceplate._ _

__When Knock Out opened his optics again, he noticed Breakdown was standing by the window, looking out at the sunrise through the towers._ _

__“I gotta head back,” he said. “Bulk probably thinks I’m with my girl.”_ _

__Knock Out fluttered his optics, pushing himself up. “You’re still friends with that lunkhead?”_ _

__“Yeah,” Breakdown said. “He’s still there for me. Sorta. He’s been hanging around that guy that recruited me to the Wreckers. They hang out a lot, acting like best buds or something. They wouldn’t even know each other if it weren’t for me accepting the offer.”_ _

__“Wreckers…” Knock Out said thoughtfully. “They make up a lot of my clientbase.”_ _

__Breakdown shifted. “Well you can quit that now,” he said, and Knock Out arched a curious brow ridge at him. “I’m gonna get the rest of the team and we’re gonna storm that tower. Bulkhead’ll help. I’ll get some of the guys we can trust, and we’re gonna set you free.”_ _

__Knock Out paused, processing what Breakdown just said._ _

__“You’re my conjunx now,” Breakdown said adamantly. “You don’t need to sell yourself anymore.”_ _

__There was a moment’s pause until Knock Out burst into sudden laughter._ _

__“Breakdown!” he said between laughs. “You… you think I’m a _pleasurebot?_ ” He fell back into his berth, rolling in laughter. “What in Primus gave you that idea!?”_ _

__Breakdown strode over to the berth, looking confused. “What? You said that bot in the alley… that he was your client.”_ _

__Knock Out wiped lubricant out of the corners of his optics that had gathered through his hard laughter. “Breakdown,” he sighed, looking up at him. “You positively delight me. You think I’m some high-class pleasurebot? I should be flattered.”_ _

__Still laughing, he pushed himself off the berth and lead Breakdown back into the main suite where he picked up a small box he had placed on the counter when they had entered his suite last night._ _

__“Yes,” Knock Out said, “That bot was my client. Because I was selling him _these_ ,” and he handed Breakdown the small box._ _

__Opening the box, Breakdown looked down at two rows of tiny silver balls. “What are they?” he asked._ _

__“Micro-explosives,” Knock Out explained, then he sauntered over to the window. “That tower I work at, I’m a scientist there. It’s called the Institute. We do a lot of freelance research and on the side,” he applied a single digit to his mouthplate in a hushing motion, “I sell illicit weapons for my boss.”_ _

__“I didn’t know the Wreckers were buying blackmarket weapons,” Breakdown said, putting the case back onto the counter cautiously._ _

__Knock Out shrugged. “Whichever side pays the highest, we don’t ask as long as the credits go through.”_ _

__“Well, that’s a bit of a relief,” Breakdown replied, smiling. “Glad I don’t have to bust you out of some kind of prostitution ring.”_ _

__“Word to the wise, never make your hobby your job,” Knock Out said seriously with folded arms. “Now, do what you need to do and I’ll see you after my shift, alright? Break up with that femme, pack up your stuff, here’s the access code to my suite and let me get you the directions should you forget.”_ _

__“Oh, uh,” Breakdown stammered. “I can’t do that.”_ _

__Knock Out, swivelled around, “Which part?”_ _

__“I can’t move in,” Breakdown said._ _

__“We’re conjunx endura and you can’t live with me?” Knock Out asked, askance._ _

__“I need to be on call at our base. Things are getting, uh, a bit crazy there,” Breakdown said, sounding almost distressed. “In case they need me, and we have meetings and stuff. Stuff happens all the time, they need me to be there.”_ _

__Knock Out’s expression was clearly conveyed as unimpressed for Breakdown stepped forward and placed servos on either side of his arms._ _

__“I’ll try and work something out, okay?” Breakdown said, rubbing Knock Out’s arms up and down. “I’ll see you tonight, I promise.” He bent down to nibble on Knock Out’s pipes. His vocaliser dropped low and somehow managed to quell Knock Out’s temper. “My spark’s already burning to merge again, baby. I can’t wait to have an official ceremony! I want all my friends to know about us- you can bring yours too.”_ _

__“Ceremony?” Knock Out repeated with a little trepidation._ _

__“We might not be able to go back to someplace important to us, a lot of the old Iacon district has been bombed,” Breakdown continued. The excitement in his tone could not be ignored. “But we’ll do what we can. I can at least buy you something special.”_ _

__Before Knock Out could protest, Breakdown gently stroked his faceplate. Knock Out leaned into the touch, his spark firing up, tingling from being so close to his newly sparked sparkmate._ _

__“Well, if you put it that way,” Knock Out chuckled, not wanting to let go._ _

__“This war won’t get in the way of us,” Breakdown insisted. “I promise you, from now on, it’s just you and me. We’re gonna get through it as long as we’re together.”_ _

__Knock Out fluttered his optics then stood on the tips of his pedes so he was able to plant a gentle and slow kiss upon Breakdown’s mouthplate._ _

__“Just promise me I’ll see you walk through that door tonight,” Knock Out replied._ _

__Breakdown kissed him back. His vocaliser somehow resonated with the pulse of Knock Out’s own spark. “That’s a promise I can keep,” Breakdown said, standing tall with confidence. “Nothing’ll keep me from you now.”_ _

__And Knock Out believed him, he could feel it now within his own spark. He knew with complete conviction that Breakdown would always be with him. Now with their sparks shared, they would always return home, to one another._ _

__

__Bulkhead still did not respond._ _

__Breakdown furrowed his brow ridges and resisted the urge to to smash that punching block in two._ _

__“What’s it gonna take for you to get it?” he asked, fighting back the anger and insult building inside. “What’s it gonna take for you to get that I love Knock Out? That he loves me?”_ _

__Bulkhead wavered. Finally, he folded his arms and leaned back, looking his friend up and down. “Well, I’ll give it to you, Breakdown. You always know what you want and one thing I know about you, when you know what you want, you never let anything get in the way. Am I right?”_ _

__There was a pause. Breakdown’s bravado drained out of him. He gave a small nod._ _

__“Alright, I’m coming, Breakdown,” Bulkhead said. Then there it was, Bulkhead might not ever have known how much it meant, but that congratulatory smack on Breakdown’s back was one of the most important moments of his life._ _

__“Count me there,” Bulkhead continued. Was Breakdown hallucinating or was there even a smile on his faceplate? “I’d never miss my best friend’s sparkmerging ceremony. What kind of friend would I be?”_ _

__A large grin crossed Breakdown’s faceplate. “I knew I could count on you, Bulk. I knew you’d get it! You’re the best bud I could ever ask for! Now maybe you can help me think of some ideas for gifts of profference for Knock Out. You won’t believe the kind of lifestyle he’s living now-”_ _

__The two friends continued to chat, brainstorming the perfect ceremony, unbeknownst to them that they were nearing the penultimate time in history in which they would regret ever knowing each other._ _


	14. (W)Reckless |&| Wreckers Call For a ***** Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial begins and Arcee has to juggle not only her own feelings, but those of her friends as well. But what will result of the trial is something not only Arcee, but nobot, could expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! It's been a long time, I am so sorry! I have been dealing with much in my personal life, but I hope to now be on a regular schedule with this story. I aim to finish it as soon as I can, we're getting close to the end! Since the last chapter, I have been flattered and amazed by some of the comments I have received. I can not express my gratitude enough, they mean so much to me. I am very delighted that my story even at this point is still being enjoyed. And thank-you to all who left kudos too! Each one is a treasure and puts an excited smile to my face. 
> 
> The flashback is on it's way, but I figured it had been long enough since the last update so I am posting the full chapter now. The flashback will be ready this week! Until then, please enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> **Edit- flashback is up now, thank-you for all your kind words everyone!**

Arcee was thinking about him again. She’d been thinking about him a lot lately. 

She was supposed to be powered down. Her frame was exhausted, but her processor was alight with obsessive thoughts. All of them doing their very best to tear at her spark and undo all of the personal growth she thought she had achieved in the last few orns. 

Instead, it revealed what a very thin wall she had built for herself and it now lay crumbled at her pedes. She couldn’t keep pretending any longer, she understood that now. But how to remedy herself, she no longer had an answer. 

Laying still, Arcee’s optics focused on the ceiling above her.

 _It wasn’t fair._

Cliffjumper was dead and Breakdown was alive. The Autobots won and the Decepticons lost, and yet life was somehow turning her world upside down. Perhaps the Autobots hadn’t won afterall. This wasn’t supposed to be how the story ended. Somehow they had won and yet won nothing. 

She sat up. The only light in the room came from her own optics.

Sometimes, after Cliffjumper’s death, Arcee couldn’t power down. When she was very still, and very quiet, she could hear the soft voices of Ratchet and Optimus Prime carrying from the main room of their Nevada base. Sometimes, Arcee could hear their conversation. It was always a discussion about what to do next, or discussing whether she or Bumblebee or Bulkhead were doing okay. The distant voices would always be enough to lull her back into a power down. Maybe it was their muted tone, maybe it was simply knowing friends were nearby. But now it was a comfort of the past, with Optimus dead and Ratchet gone, all Arcee could hear was her own deafening thoughts.

Feeling a sudden strained pulse of her spark, Arcee could take it no more. Lithely, she leapt off her berth and dashed out of her assigned room. 

The halls were empty. Arcee felt her whole frame twitch from discomfort. Even if the _Nemesis_ was now their ‘home’, she would never feel like she belonged in the Decepticon warship.

But no Decepticons attacked. Instead, Arcee treaded alone down the huge empty halls. Before she knew it, she found herself navigating towards the _Nemesis’_ bridge. Perhaps a drive through Nevada’s dusty roads would spend her energy. Maybe this time she would find Cluffjumper’s lone horn in the wreckage of their old base. As if that even mattered.

As the bridge’s doors opened for her, Arcee was about to take another step forward when she discovered an active spacebridge portal before her. Surprised, she saw two silhouettes standing before the green glow. 

Even so, the shape of one of them was recognisable- it was Bumblebee! The other bot was somehow familiar, yet not in a way that Arcee could name. The two bots spoke in voices so hushed, she could not hear them. 

But having been alerted of her presence by the sound of the door closing, both bots whipped their helms around to face the intruder. Hurriedly, Bumblebeee said something to the other bot and before Arcee could approach them, the mystery bot disappeared through the spacebridge.

“Who was that?” Arcee asked, narrowing her optics.

Bumblebee shut down the spacebridge portal. “Nobot,” he replied, not looking at her.

Arcee folded her arms and tried again, “Was that a bot from Elita One’s ship?”

Bumblebee let out a small sigh. “It’s not a big deal, Arcee.”

She too let out a vent of air. “Okay, look, I’m not going to pry,” Arcee began, “but you’ve got to know we can’t have you disappearing like that again. We-”

“So every other bot is allowed to internalise their after war problems but me?” Bumblebee interrupted, his irritation barely suppressed. “If I recall, even you needed some time at Ratchet’s after Optimus-” and he caught on his words as if he was suddenly reminded of who Optimus was to him. 

Arcee attempted a gentler approach, “Is that where you were-”

“No,” Bumblebee cut her off again. “Are you kidding? He won’t talk to me.”

“Or anybot,” Arcee added. “We’ve tried communicating and bridging a portal, but Hanger E is blocked.”

Bumblebee looked away. “What gives him the right?”

Arcee knew Ratchet to retreat within himself when overwhelmed emotionally. After all, he had been so willing to rot in a junkyard for the rest of his million years in his alt mode when their Nevada base had exploded and the Autobots had all gone separate ways. Was he doing the same thing again now?

“Optimus being my sire,” Bumblebee started to say, his vocaliser lilting, “I mean… it changes everything. Yet it changes nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” Arcee said. “Ratchet has a lot of explaining to do, especially to you, but right now, we need our leader. Whether Optimus knew you were his heir or not…” she reached out with a small servo and placed it gently on Bumblebee, “he chose _you_ to succeed _him_. We need you.”

But Bumblebee look down at her sorrowfully and said, “It should’ve been you.”

Arcee’s optics flickered. “No,” she replied. “Optimus knew what he was doing. He chose you for a reason. I know it’s a lot to deal with, and it’s going to get a lot more demanding, but he knew you were capable, and you have been.”

Bumblebee shook his helm. “I’ll never be like Optimus. I thought I had to live up to him, to fill his role because he chose me to succeed him. But now I don’t even get the choice, I _have_ to. I’m his heir. We call our offspring that word for a reason, Arcee. Heirs are supposed to represent their sires, to elevate their status and be a shining example of how great they are in how great _they_ are!” His shoulder slumped and he had to hide his facpelate in his servos for a klick. “How can I ever be any of that for Optimus Prime?”

“Bumblebee,” Arcee said softly, “you know Optimus was always proud of you. You know what he told me in our one-on-one private talks with him before he died? He told me how he thought you as stronger and wiser than your age. You don’t have to do anything to live up to Optimus. Just be who you _are_. That’s what Optimus saw in you.”

“I’m not even from the Well,” he said.

Arcee recoiled. “Don’t tell me you buy into any of that scrap? I hope you know that none of your friends care about that stuff. Your sire, er, carrier- _Elita_ \- is right. It doesn’t matter how you were sparked.”

“There will be bots who do care. I feel like everything possible is stacked against me,” Bumblebee’s vocaliser caught in his pipes. “I just wish he could have known the truth. That I had known when he was alive.”

She immediately thought of Ratchet’s words. They echoed in her mind again: ‘ _we all want something we can’t have_ ’. They felt so harsh at the time, but he had been right.

“I’ll tell you something,” Arcee said, pulling back a little. “Something I’ve come to learn lately. With the war over, we’re going to be thinking about a lot of things that happened during our millions of years fighting. We’re going to have a lot of regrets. We may have won the war, but that doesn’t mean life is over, or that life will be perfect. But I think Optimus knew that, I think that’s why he talked with each of us privately.”

Bumblebee noded and had a distant look in his optics, as if he might be reflecting on his own one-on-one experience with Optimus. 

“Thanks for listening, Arcee,” he said finally, the small smile on his faceplate was infectious. How rare it was to see such a sight, when Bumblebee had gone so long with his mouthguard covering his mouthplate after he had lost his voice. “I appreciate it.”

Arcee nodded. “Now don’t get too surprised, but it looks like an old ‘con we used to know showed up and wants to join us.”

Bumblebee appeared startled. “Don’t tell me it’s Starscream!”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Thankfully, no. It’s Breakdown, actually-”

“I wondered what happened to him! I assumed he died,” Bumblebee replied, thoughtful.

“Yeah… well…” Arcee shrugged. “He’s here now and Wheeljack wants to hold a trial for him, where we all vote on if he can stay.”

“And I’m to be the mediator of this trial?” Bumblebee inquired.

“That’s the plan, leader,” Arcee said with a smile. “You up to the task?”

Bumblebee stood straighter, his chassis broad, looking like the leader Optimus knew he was inside. “Then let’s get this trial started,” he said, a new confidence rising in his vocaliser. “You go get Breakdown, I’ll gather the others.”

Arcee nodded, watching Bumblebee stride out the bridge’s doors. Maybe Bumblebee had a lot stacked against him, but this was almost always the case and he had never let it hold him back before. It was bizarre to see him so hesitant, but then, Bumblebee wasn’t the only bot behaving out of character since the end of the war. 

 

Arcee found them in the medbay. She came to a halt just shy of the doorway. Suddenly unable to move, Arcee was forced to admit it hadn’t all been a strange dream. Breakdown really was alive. 

With their backs to the door yet slightly turned to face one another, the two mechs did not notice her enter. They were sitting at one of the tables, speaking to each other in hushed tones. Airachnid was right, they really did sit that slight sliver too close. But it wasn’t their proximity that revealed their truth to Arcee in this moment, but instead, the expression on Knock Out’s faceplate.

He was engrossed on every word Breakdown was saying. It was that tiny small smile, right into the corners of his mouthplate and how his optics seemed to glisten more than usual. Even though he was scrolling through a datapad in his servos, it was clear he was enrapt. Whatever Breakdown told him, despite multitasking, his full attention was on the mech next to him. 

Whatever Breakdown said caused Knock Out to let out a loud, hearty laugh- deep from the chassis. Standing up, he continued to laugh as he approached a vehicon strapped to his medslab. Looking up from his datapad, he finally noticed Arcee.

“Ah! Arcee!” Knock Out exclaimed. “Come in, come in! What can I do for you?” 

As Arcee entered, she noticed Breakdown glance at her from over his shoulder plating while he repaired a medical device on the table.

“Actually,” Arcee explained. “We’re starting the trial.”

Knock Out injected something into the vehicon with a syringe. “Oh right, that thing,” he rolled his optics. “By the way, have you met Breakdown? Officially, I mean? Arcee, this is Breakdown. Breakdown, Arcee.”

Arcee offered Breakdown a servo to shake. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I think you threw me once.”

Breakdown looked her up and down from the corner of his optic but made no move to shake her servo. 

“Breakdown, be pleasant,” Knock Out called, not looking up from working on the vehicon’s arm.

Breakdown put the tool he was repairing back on the table and rose to his pedes. Pausing, he stared down at her. Breakdown was twice her size and his shadow swallowed her. But instead of making any move to shake her servo, and without a word, Breakdown strode past her and handed Knock Out another datapad.

Oblivious to the interaction, Knock Out accepted the datapad, using it to scan the vehicon. “Ah, perfect. Looks like you’re ready to return to work,” he said to the bot. “Just avoid heavy lifting, I suggest small tool work for the time being.”

The vehicon nodded and Breakdown provided him a servo to hold as he eased himself out of the medslab.

“You can guide him back to Bulkhead,” Knock Out said, his tone taking a formal manner. He began typing at the computer by the medslab into what looked like this vehicon’s medical report. “And make sure to tell him about this one’s restrictions. I don’t want him back here with an injury to the same arm or Bulkhead’s going to lose all of his construction help.”

Arcee thought she saw Breakdown roll his optic, but she was distracted by the vehicon who settled next to her, waiting to be taken to his berthroom. 

“So I’ll be meeting you back at the bridge for the trial?” Arcee questioned. “No more escaping out the back window for secret dates?”

“Yes, yes,” Knock Out replied, his attention still on the computer. “As soon as I file this report.”

Arcee turned to leave, but hesitated. “Because if you do that again,” she added, “You’re going to make it harder for the both of you.”

Knock Out said nothing as he typed at the computer. Breakdown, however, glanced at her one more time from over his shoulder, his expression too masked to read. 

Arcee let out a sigh, and lead the vehicon out of the medbay. But just as the doors were about to shut behind her, Knock Out called out to her.

“Sooner or later,” he said, still typing. “You’re going to have to start trusting them too.”

She glanced up at the vehicon next to her, he made no response either. Not knowing what to say, she left the room in silence.

They had been keeping all of the vehicons together, in one locked room, but had provided berths, converting it to a barrack. There was a video feed on the outside of the room, to monitor and ensure they wouldn’t be walking into a trap when they entered their room. 

None of them had really said much, according to Bulkhead who worked more closely with them as they helped him repair Cybertron’s buildings. But so far, none of them had caused any problems, not even passive-aggressively.

As far as the Autobots could tell, they all had catalogued numbers assigned to them, but no names. As to if they had actual faceplates underneath their uniform faceplate, it was anybot’s guess. 

“Bulkhead’ll probably start up a construction group in a few joors,” Arcee said to the vehicon, stopping just outside the room it shared with the others. “Uh…” she shifted, planting her servos on her hips. She had never attempted this before. “You guys fine for energon?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” the vehicon replied.

Hearing an actual response shocked her and she hoped it hadn’t showed. Yes, she knew they were individuals, sentient and could speak, but the direct response rattled her. She instantly felt diffident. 

“Alright,” she said, stifling her awkwardness. “If you guys need anything, give us a shout on the comm inside, right?”

“We will,” the vehicon said, returning to the room.

She much preferred to leave the vehicons to Bulkhead. 

 

“Bulkhead,” Arcee called, pushing her way through the small crowd of unrecognisable bots from Elita’s ship to find a spot next to her friend. “I have to admit, I’m a bit surprised to see you here. Guess I don’t have to ask which way you’re voting.”

“Jackie insisted we all participate in the vote,” he said. “He thinks it’s important to bring some order as we start to rebuild.”

“That’s not something I would have expected Wheeljack to care about,” Arcee replied, honestly taken aback. “So, should I ask if Smokescreen is going to attend?” 

She scanned the crowd, aside from Bulkhead, only Wheeljack chatting with one of Elita’s bots, was a face she recognised. She assumed Bumblebee and Ultra Magnus would be present soon enough. 

Bulkhead appeared uneasy by this question. “Yeah, he’ll be here. Just running a little late.”

There was some movement behind Arcee that caught her attention. A bot she recognised but not seen in a couple million years. She readied her spark because as soon as she spoke to him, Arcee was not going to be able to hold back confronting him with the truth she now knew. 

“Hey, Prowl,” Arcee said, forcing herself to act casual.. “Haven’t seen you in awhile.”

Yes, right behind her was the mech who had sired her. The police chief who had used his heir, Arcee, for the sole purpose to elevate his status within the elite circles. It had been his decision to promote Arcee into partnering with Ultra Magnus, both of whom intrigued Shockwave enough to desire them for an experiment with a sparkling. Thankfully, an experiment that had never been able to take place. 

But all of that Arcee could forgive. It was standard for their time. Instead, it was the little matter of arranging her then boyfriend’s death she had problems letting go. 

“Arcee,” Prowl returned. His visor shielded his optics, keeping any expression of his hidden. “Good to see you survived the war, I knew you would.”

“Thanks,” Arcee replied. She would be lying to herself if she said the air of indifference from Prowl wasn’t just a little bit offensive. They had never been close, and Arcee had never actually ‘missed’ him even when she didn’t know what Prowl had done to Mirage, but they still had a connection and the lack of familiarity felt cold. “And Flamewar?” she referred to her other sire.

“Still out there,” Prowl said, maybe a little too dismissively.

“Are you an old friend of Prowl’s?” The mech next to Prowl leaned forwards, it was the same one that had been standing next to him when they had disembarked off of Elita’s ship. The mech took her servo, shaking it with excessive enthusiasm. “Nice to meet you! The name’s Jazz.”

“Same to you,” Arcee said, wedging her servo free of his grasp. “But I’m more like an old heir of Prowl’s.”

“I didn’t know you had an heir!” Jazz said with a laugh, smacking Prowl on the back in a teasing gesture. To Arcee he said,, “At least you took after old Prowl here, and not Flamewar!”

Arcee flinched. “What do you mean?”

“She doesn’t know,” Prowl explained to Jazz. “Will you give us a moment?”

Jazz looked guilty but nodded and made his way over to Wheeljack. 

“What’s he talking about,” Arcee asked, her arms folded. She could feel the suspicion raising inside her, lodging somewhere within her pipes. “I know Flamewar was a bit upright, but so are yo-”

“Flamewar is a Decepticon,” Prowl said. 

Arcee’s arms dangled at her sides. She shuttered multiple times. 

“What are you talking ab-”

Prowl’s visor transformed, revealing his full faceplate and Arcee was able to see his blue optics for the first time in millions of years.

“She betrayed us,” he explained, his mouthplate tight. His expression, it lacked any kind of emotion and yet his brow ridge kept resisting to furrow. “At the Infiltration of the J’kozian Sector,” he said, “Flamewar completely blindsided us and I should have known.”

Arcee could feel the information wash over her. She had barely thought of her sires during the war, she was never close with them and even when she had been ‘owned’ by them, she was constantly trying to get away from what they wanted for her- for _them_ \- and fight to live her own life on Cybertron. But even still, this information, it sucker punched her in the internals. 

“Then please tell me it was Flamewar who killed Mirage and not you,” Arcee could barely vocalise above a whisper.

Prowl’s calm exterior dropped and Arcee was frozen when he reached out, placing a servo on her tiny arm. 

“Flamewar killed Mirage. To make it easier to pair you with Ultra Magnus, yes. I swear to you, I did not orchestrate that. But I am not guilt free.” He leaned over her, not allowing her to avert her gaze. “Because I knew, and as a police chief, I covered her crime and for my own selfish reasons too. Not because I cared about her, but because I feared her crime would reflect on my own reputation. She hired an insecticon-”

“Airachnid,” Arcee gasped. She stepped back, shaking her helm. “She was right. Even back then! Even before the war, she was killing bots I cared about.”

“Arcee,” Prowl said, his firm vocaliser still able to grab her attention. “I have many, _many_ regrets from before the war. I am not the same mech I was then.”

It was then that Arcee realised she didn’t care. She didn’t care about Prowl, or Flamewar, that they were her sires or that they had been involved in Mirages death or that Flamewar was now a Decepticon. None of that was important. Perhaps it should have been, it would have been, back then. 

But now, Arcee just felt numb. Even her hatred for Airachnid ebbed. Even though Airachnid had escaped, even though Arcee hadn’t killed her, Arcee processed all of that already. It wasn’t about that anymore, nor was it even even the deep sorrow for Cliffjumper’s loss. Because now…

Knock Out strode into the room, Breakdown following. Bots separated, making way for the pair as they walked down the bridge’s catwalk and took their spot at the centre of the console.

Now, it wasn’t fair. Nothing in Arcee’s life was fair, even back then. Breakdown’s presence in the room was not the same for everybot else as it was for her. For Arcee, it was an insulting reminder that she had always lost everything and all the con’s in her life, from Flamewar, to Airachnid, to Starscream and even Knock Out, despite their growing ease with one another- all of them- they _always_ got their way. 

Leaving Arcee with nothing and nobot.

“Alright, everybot!” Bumblebee’s vocaliser announced, striding into the room with Ultra Magnus at his side. They stood centre stage by the bridge’s console. 

Bumblebee waved his servos to quiet the room, drawing all attention onto him. “Thank-you all for attending! Especially those of you from Elita One’s ship,” he said. As soon as they were addressed, Arcee heard a small wave of murmurs behind her from those bots. No doubt gossiping about Bumblebee’s heritage, the heir of their leader and of a Prime.

“Today,” Bumblebee continued. “We’re going to address Breakdown,” he gestured to Breakdown next to him, “A former Decepticon who wishes to join the Autobots.” 

Arcee felt Bulkhead next to her cross his arms. 

“Breakdown,” Bumblebee began, “would you like to make an opening statement?”

The room fell hushed. Nobot had seen Breakdown in orns and it was probably safe to assume everybot thought he died- and basically, he had. Arcee had told Breakdown the truth, she had heard a lot about him lately, but who he was as a bot- as an individual, not as Knock Out’s conjunx, she was mystified. All she really knew was that he wasn’t fond of servo shakes, instead favouring in glaring from over his shoulder.

Next to Breakdown, Knock Out remained silent, allowing Breakdown to speak for himself. 

“Well, I’m a construction worker by class-type,” Breakdown announced, taking a step forwards. “I can aid with building and repairs. I’m also a trained medic’s assistant-”

“Bet you are,” Bulkhead muttered under his venting air. Only Arcee heard him.

“-I’m useful,” Breakdown continued uninterrupted. “You’re short on bots and I have a lot of skills to offer.” He paused, thinking, then stepped back.

“These are all valid points,” Bumblebee said to the crowd. “Your willingness to join us is also a crucial factor to us. Let us remember that, many times, Optimus Prime has extended the offer of joining the Autobots to Decepticons and so many times, the offer is turned down. As we consider our decision, let’s also reflect on what Optimus would do.” 

Knock Out was smirking something fierce in his spot next to Breakdown. A proud look that probably went unnoticed by anybot else. 

“Going through your records,” Ultra Magnus said, turning on the monitor console behind him. “Pre-war, there are a few misdemeanour charges. However, during the war, we can not find much in the way of recorded information. We know you have been involved in the Infiltration of the J’kozian Sector, the Fall of Translucentica Heights and small footnote about the early bombings in Kalis but it does not go into extensive details. Would you care to divulge your exploits under Decepticon charge?” It wasn’t a question.

“Uh,” Breakdown flustered at first, but found his confidence when Knock Out gave him the tiniest of nods. “Like I said, I was a medic’s assistant. My job was to protect the medic and help in the medbay.”

Ultra Magnus did not appear impressed with this as answer, but said, “And during your time on the Nemesis? When you reported directly to Starscream and Megatron?”

Now this was a question Breakdown could not embellish or divert as many of the bots here, including Arcee, were well aware of what he was involved in during this time. Most of which included attacking them.

But Breakdown did not falter when he answered the question. “Knock Out and I were called directly to the Nemesis because they needed a medic. They were short on bots so we were sent on retrieval missions. We’d clash with the Autobots sometimes, but our interactions never resulted in death.”

Arcee had to give it him, that was the truth, at least during the time Breakdown had been a part of Megatron’s fold. 

The inquiry went on for hours as Ultra Magnus asked Breakdown question after question about every Decepticon operation that he could have conceivably been involved in, including many that Breakdown himself appeared to have forgotten about. Nearly every time, Breakdown answered with a similar narrative involving his position as a medic’s assistant or a support role as a construction bot. With the questions now coming in direct chronological order, Arcee knew the trial had to be nearing its conclusion.

“One last question, if you will,” Ultra Magnus said, waking any bots that might have lulled off. “I’m sure we’d all like to know- what was your reasoning at the time for joining the Decepticons?”

Breakdown was unsettled by the question and even Knock Out’s optics darted. It was obvious to Arcee they had not prepped for that question. 

Next to her, she felt Bulkhead shift. His arms still folded, he stared at his former friend through slit optics. Perhaps just as curious to hear the reason, or maybe waiting to catch him in a lie.

After a pause, Breakdown said, “I was a construction bot before the war. I never questioned it, I was a loyal worker. But then the war happened and everybot picked a side.” He glanced at Knock Out who seemed to be entranced by the floor. “And at the time I had to chose, the Autobots weren’t making bots like me feel welcome.”

“If we want to scrutinise everybot’s rapsheet, then so be it,” Knock Out seized everybot’s attention the moment he spoke after remaining silent for the whole trial. “Let everybot here pull out their record and let’s compare and judge our justifications for what we did and why. But let’s all take a moment to think, we’ve all done things we’re not proud of, isn’t that the nature of war? Optimus Prime knew that, I am an example of his belief that even Decepticons can be forgiven! Like our new leader, Bumblebee expressed, let’s all consider ‘what would Optimus do’?”

Arcee could feel the audience react to this statement, despite no bot uttering a word.

“I just want to help rebuild my home,” Breakdown added. “I was a functioning member of society before the war, I can be that again.”

“Thank-you, Breakdown,” Bumblebee concluded with a nod. He addressed the room, “Does anybot have any further questions for Breakdown?”

Nobot said anything, not even Bulkhead. 

“Then let’s conclude the trial,” Bumblebee said. “All in favour of Breakdown joining the Autobots?” 

Arcee wasn’t sure what her real opinion was. She couldn’t hide it from herself, but there was an urge inside her to resist raising her servo. It was like her arm weighed twice her weight. But it was Knock Out, who looked straight at her from across the room that made the decision for her. It wasn’t a threatening look, not even that pleading one like when he had needed her to help repair Breakdown in the medbay. It was a look of confusion. As if he couldn’t understand why she wasn’t naturally raising her servo to vote Breakdown in. 

So she raised her servo and observed her friends.

She wasn’t surprised to see both Wheeljack and Bulkhead keeping their servos at their sides. However, what did surprise her, was that Prowl raised his servo, as did Jazz and most of the crowd from Elita’s ship. 

“And those against?” Bumblebee announced. 

Bulkhead and Wheeljack both raised their servos, a few others as well, but it was pretty obvious that they were not the majority. 

“You need to vote, kid.” Wheeljack’s vocaliser caught everyone’s attention.

The crowd behind Arcee parted revealing Smokescreen in the very back. During the lengthy trial, Arcee had never noticed Smokescreen slip into the room. How long he had been there, she had no idea. But now, he was caught off guard, not prepared to have the spotlight on him.

“You for, or against?” Wheeljack repeated, gruff. 

Smokescreen’s mouthplate opened, but no sound came out. His optics darted from bot to bot and he took a step back.

“Yes, Smokescreen,” Knock Out hailed him from across the room. “For? Or against?”

“I don’t want to vote!” Smokescreen blurted out.

“You have to,” Wheeljack answered. “This is a democracy now.”

“I don’t want to vote!” Smokescreen repeated, vocaliser raising.

Bumblebee attempted to control the situation despite his utter bewilderment at what was happening. “Smokescreen, you don’t need to vote. Nobot _has_ to, but you can-”

“No!” Smokescreen was rigid. “I don’t want to be involved in this and I don’t need to have everybot staring at me either!” And he fled, leaving behind a wildly bemused group of bots. 

Through the chatter, Arcee saw Knock Out and his optics burned with fury, his faceplate flushed with energon but he said nothing. Breakdown, well, his expression was indecipherable. As for every other bot from Bumblebee to Wheeljack, they were all in the complete dark. But Arcee?

Not again, she thought. Smokescreen’s behaviour was repetitive and no longer excusable. He was going to have to resolve his emotions one way or the other.

Throwing herself into her alt mode, Arcee zipped off after Smokescreen.

Racing down the hall, she was able to surpass him with her speed. Skidding to a halt, she transformed, barring him from fleeing any further.

“Slow it down, Smokescreen,” Arcee commanded, barring his path with her arms. “Enough running away.”

But Smokescreen shook his helm, his brows intensely furrowed. “You don’t know! You don’t _get it_.”

“I do,” Arcee said, mouthplate tight. “And we’re going to talk it out and deal with it. _Now._ ”

“There’s nothing to talk out!” Smokescreen retorted.

Before she could respond, Bulkhead caught up with them.

“Smokescreen?” he asked, cautious. “What was all that about?”

Smokescreen actually trembled. “Just forget it,” he muttered, staring at the floor.

Arcee relaxed, lowering her arms. It was so easy, for all of Smokescreen’s immaturity, to be exasperated with his behaviour. But seeing him now, how overcome he was, Arcee was starting to see not a child, but a young mech overwhelmed by a tremendous revelation that he did not fully understand. 

“When… when you went on that drive with Knock Out…” Bulkhead began tentatively with a sadness in his optics. He heaved out a long, rattling sigh. “He told you, didn’t he?”

Smokescreen jolted. “Told… T-told me what..?” 

Bulkhead readied himself then said, “That you’re his heir.”

“You _know?_ ” Arcee blurted out.

Bulkhead double-shuttered. “Wait- _you_ know?”

“You _both_ know!?” Smokescreen interrupted, his vocaliser catching in his pipes. “What, did he, like, tell _everybot!?_ Does everybot know about this!?” 

“Well, he told me,” Arcee said, glancing at Bulkhead. “But only because I found a family photo. He wasn’t exactly forthcoming with the information. But you...” and she turned to Bulkhead, “You knew him, and Breakdown, before the war. Does that mean...”

Bulkhead fell silent, his optics bravely holding Smokescreen’s own. “Yeah, kid. I recognised you the moment I saw you.”

That explained why Bulkhead was so curious when he saw Knock Out and Smokescreen drive off for their ‘mission’. Because Bulkhead _knew_. Arcee’s optics widened. Primus, Bulkhead knew before her, he knew back when they were still fighting the war- when Knock Out was still a _Decepticon_. 

“Why didn’t you tell Smokescreen?” Arcee asked, thinking of Bumblebee and Ratchet. “Or any of us? Why not say anything?”

Bulkhead swallowed. “As soon as I came hobbling down that hall back at the old base and I saw you,” he gestured to Smokescreen, “I recognised you. Right at my lowest point, injured and out for the count, replaced by a newbie and… of all the bots in all the galaxies to be standing there, it had to be rival’s heir.” Bulkhead shook his helm. “I know I didn’t take it well.”

Smokescreen looked numb. “You knew _me?_ ” His optics darted all over Bulkhead. “I didn’t know you.”

“Yeah, I knew you when you were just a newspark.” Bulkhead’s optics shuttered slowly while recalling the past. “There was no way he was ever gonna turn in a helpless little sparkling. I should never have been surprised that he kept you when he found you in that rubble and smuggled you home. I remember coming over to his suite and they’d be, uh, busy, and I’d take you over to my suite and watch you until they came to pick you up...”

Smokescreen was beginning to slowly shake his his head. “They can’t be, I remember… I remember a femme and…”

Bulkhead shook his helm. “Listen, I was there. I mean… you’re different.” He choked on the words, “But I can see _him_ in you. He was… my bud, I knew him and you have that same crooked grin. Kinda stand the same when you get all boastful too.” The smile faded. “But when you get angry… you look exactly like Knock Out.”

“You never told me,” Smokescreen said, struggling to remain calm. “You never told me you knew anything about me.”

“I mean, it’s not that big of a deal,” Bulkhead struggled, “I didn’t know it was going to be important to you. I know you grew up during the war and you don’t know what’s normal, but most of us, we don’t know our sires and that’s just normal. I sure don’t know mine, Breakdown doesn’t and Knock Out, well, I dunno but I think he’s from that kinda group sparking thing and-”

“But you knew they were _Decepticons!_ ” Smokescreen interrupted, doors twittering on his back. “How could you keep that from me!?”

“Calm down, kid,” Bulkhead urged anxiously. 

“Smokescreen, it doesn’t matter who your sires are,” Arcee said, stepping forwards. She knew she had to defuse this here and now, to prevent this from becoming what happened between Bumblebee and Ratchet. “One of my own sires was a Decepticon and I just found that out today.” Smokescreen stared at her with wide optics. “But that doesn’t change anything about who I am. Knock Out’s an Autobot now, Smokescreen. That’s what matters. Breakdown too. That’s _good_. They could’ve chosen to reject us.” She looked to Bulkhead for some added support, but she was confused by his silence.

“I don’t want anything to do with them,” Smokescreen said with conviction.

“Smokescreen,” Arcee exuded a strained sigh, “Nobot is telling you you need to be best friends with them. But we are all a team now. A small team rebuilding our planet and we have to work together. From what I understand, they’re curious about you.” 

Smokescreen did not respond. He clenched his servos and tensed his entire frame. The ground seized his attention, but his optics darted all over. 

“Yeah, well,” Smokescreen finally spat out, “if they want to get to know me so much, then… then…” And suddenly he exploded, releasing all of his emotions came pouring out, “Then why did they dump me, huh!? Because that’s what _I_ remember.” He thrust a digit at himself, “I grew up with no sires and not a shanix to my name and it was no walk in the park! The day I transformed into an adult, I could either join some factory or live on the streets. So I chose neither. I signed up for the Elite Guard! Okay, if my sires are so great, then why didn’t they _want me?_ Sounds like they were typical ‘cons and threw me out like yesterday’s trashpile!”

The silence was deafening and Arcee was at a loss on what to say. 

She thought of Knock Out, and how resistant he had been in wanting to even tell Smokescreen of their relation. Yet, when he had spoken to her about owning a newspark as he had placed the ‘box of insurance’ outside Smokescreen’s door, there had been such a subtle genuineness to his fierce sentiment. Knock Out had proclaimed he had been a terrible sire, but even if that were the case, if he had been young and immature himself, that photo she saw was proof that there was a happiness in that point of his life.

“Do you think they’d keep all those records of you if they didn’t?” Arcee implored. “Or that they’d send them to you? You may not remember them, but they’ve been waiting millions of years to know you.” 

“No,” Smokescreen retorted, unyielding, “It doesn’t matter what happened in the past. Fact is, they’re _cons_ , they made their choice. I’m not like them. I’m an Autobot and I don’t need anybot questioning _my_ loyalty. I joined the war late because I was in stasis, and maybe it was Bee that got to kill Megatron, maybe it was Optimus that got to save the planet and now we find out Bumblebee was Optimus Prime’s actual real-live _heir_ -”

Flabbergasted, Arcee sputtered, “Don’t tell me this is about that ‘destiny’ thing of yours again!”

Smokescreen gaped and puffed himself up, “You don’t get it! You guys fought in the _whole_ war! When everybot returns and we get Cybertron up and running, you’ll all be heroes! Scrap, you _are_ heroes and I… and I’m just the tag-along bot that arrived late to the party.”

“That’s not true,” Bulkhead insisted before Arcee could. “You got us back the omega keys- if it weren’t for you, we may not even be here now!”

“Bulkhead’s right, Smokescreen,” Arcee added, trying not to lose her patience. “Nobot is going to question your loyalty or what you’ve done for our cause. I know that, the whole team knows that- _Optimus_ knew that-”

“But he didn’t know I was sired by Decepticons!” Smokescreen interjected.

Arcee was incredulous. “Do you honestly think Optimus would have thought that? _Really?_ I find that more an insult to him and us than anything else. Autobots judge each other on their individual merits, that’s what we _fought_ for.”

“Yeah,” Bulkhead nodded. “Smokescreen, look, whatever Breakdown and Knock Out have done, it doesn’t reflect on you! You’re just gonna drive yourself crazy, c’mon.”

“Yes, we wouldn’t want him to take after _me_ , would we?” said a fourth voice from behind Bulkhead.

All three bots turned to see Knock Out settling a little too close next to Bulkhead. Arcee noticed her friend fidget but hold his ground. 

Knock Out gazed up at Bulkhead, a wicked smile on his faceplate. “But I wouldn’t worry about that. Do a favour and pat yourself on the back because you’ve been doing a _great_ job fostering my heir in _your_ image, wouldn’t you say?”

Bulkhead did not bend to the intimidation. “I never said anything about you or Breakdown to him.”

Arcee caught a flash of rage on Knock Out’s face, but it disappeared as quickly as it surfaced. His vocaliser smooth, he said, “No? I did hear through the rumour mill that you’ve coined me the nickname ‘crazy’.”

Bulkhead looked away. “I- I didn’t mean it like that. I never talk scrap about either of you to him. I’ve made a point of that.”

“What a noble gesture,” Knock Out sneered. “Well, I suppose that makes everything you’ve done to Breakdown water under the bridge.”

“Cut it out!” Smokescreen interrupted, servos flailing into the air. All three bots jolted by the surprise outburst. “Bulkhead’s my friend! Leave him alone- leave me alone and quit trying to control me!”

“Control!?” Knock Out lost his cool exterior. “Is that what you think, that I’m trying to _control_ you? Because what else would a ‘decepticon’ want from an ‘autobot’, correct?! My boy, take heed, I never even intended to _tell_ you anything. But do I want something from you now? _Yes._ And that’s _respect_ for saving your life- for raising you! Control you,” he laughed, “it seems Bulkhead is doing a far better job at that!”

Smokescreen clenched his servos into fists, his optics darting from Knock Out to Bulkhead and back.

“Yes,” Knock Out said coolly, “I see a lot more of Bulkhead in you than myself.” And Arcee felt a wave of despair for Smokescreen when she saw that look of repulsion on Knock Out’s faceplate. “A pity.”

“Don’t say that,” Arcee said. “You don’t mean that.”

“No?” Knock Out sneered, “I’m _tired_ , Arcee. I’m done with these pathetic interactions. Everytime I walk by, my heir needs to turn and run from me yet he knows nothing about me. Do you know how that feels? Don’t bother to dwell on it, because I’m not.”

“Don’t reject him,” she insisted.

“Me!?” Knock Out’s optics widened and his sharp digits flexed dangerously. “Isn’t it clear _I’m_ the one being rejected? I recognise nothing of myself in him. But that’s a relief, isn’t it?” he asked Smokescreen.

The tension between heir and sire was so tenuous, Arcee felt like the slightest of movements would trip an invisible wire and the two mechs would tear each other apart. 

“I’m glad I’m nothing like you,” Smokescreen vocaliser was quiet.

Bulkhead was right. Smokescreen really did look exact Knock Out when angry. He could have been a mirror image.

It was the heavy pedesteps that distracted the bots. Breakdown was approaching. Behind him, Arcee could see more bots leaving the bridge- they must have come to conclusion regarding Breakdown’s trial and since Breakdown was here with no guards, she assumed he was now an Autobot like Knock Out. 

“So, Smokescreen,” Breakdown spoke up, unaware of current argument in progress. “Now that I’m an Autobot, how about you and me go for a drive and have a chat? You can show me around Cybertron, show me some of your favourite places.” His timing couldn’t be worse.

“I’ll pass,” Smokescreen sniffed dismissively, assuming a faux calm exterior, much like Arcee had seen Knock Out assume many times before. “I need to get to work on repairing the Waves Estate.”

“Well, we could work together,” Breakdown pressed. “I can show you some tricks for welding and-”

“Give the kid a break,” Bulkhead said, exasperation showing. “He’s feeling a little overwhelmed. Maybe tomorrow-”

Breakdown’s shoulder plating rose and he rounded on Bulkhead, his stature imposing. “You speaking to me about my kid?”

“I’m speaking to you about my _friend_ ,” Bulkhead amended.

A snarl furled on Breakdown’s mouthplate. “Does he know how you treat your ‘friends’? You’ve been telling him a lot of scrap about us, but have you told him the whole truth? Or have you just been making up scrap so you sound like the hero?” 

Bulkhead shifted himself, but held his ground. “I don’t say scrap about you to him.”

“But you sure do a good job at keeping him on a tight leash. Why don’t you step _off_ ,” and Breakdown took one stomping step forwards, “and give us some space?”

“I find it ironic,” Knock Out slid forwards, a suspicious grin spread across his faceplate, “that Bulkhead here is so intent on keeping you from Smokescreen and taking him under his wing when he abandoned his own little pet back on Earth.” Breakdown and Arcee both whipped around to stare at Knock Out. “She cries for him every day too,” Knock Out continued, “Bulkhead knows of her pining, but he just neglects her anyway.”

“You hypocrite!” Breakdown roared, raising his servo into a tight fist. “You fraggin’ hypocrite!!” Arcee didn’t even see his hammer transform out of his servo when Breakdown made a swing in Bulkhead’s direction, causing him to stumble backwards out of shock. 

Bulkhead was vividly both bewildered and broken at the harsh truth. “It’s not like that!” he shouted back at Knock Out. “I didn’t abandon her!”

“Then what!?” Breakdown growled back, swinging at him again to which Bulkhead deflected with a quick transformation of his own weapons on his servos. “Suddenly you’re an Autobot and you’re all high and mighty! Only Bulkhead the Autobot can have a pet and toss it if he likes!”

Completely enraged at these words, Bulkhead advanced on Breakdown. “She’s not a pet!!” he growled, delivering two blows into Breakdown chassis and shoulder. “Her name is _MIKO!_ ” and he attempted another smack to Breakdown’s faceplate, but this time, Breakdown caught his weapon in his servos and twisted it, causing Bulkhead to pull back in pain.

“You said _Smokescreen_ was ‘just a pet’!” He impacted his hammer into Bulkhead’s chassis. 

“That’s not what I said!” Bulkhead shouted back, stumbling back.

“You told us to abandon him!” Breakdown slammed another blow into Bulkhead.

“You’re twisting my words!” Bulkhead feebly blocked the blow, tripping on his own pedes.

“Then why did you turn us in!!” Breakdown snarled, “ _You’re the reason he was stolen from us!_ ”

“I thought it was the right thing!” Bulkhead gasped, his whole body shaking from his deep vents of air. When he drew in enough air, he looked up and saw… Smokescreen. Confused and devastated. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” Bulkhead repeated. “I didn’t know it was going to turn out that way. I’ve been trying to make amends for-”

“He’s lying,” Knock Out whispered, still in the shadows just behind Breakdown.

“I’m not,” Bulkhead’s faceplate contorted into an expression of repulsion.

Breakdown made a dismissive sound of disgust. “Then look at my newspark and tell him. Tell him what you did to him. To me!!” 

Bulkhead rose to his pedes, his weapons still out. He faced Smokescreen, whose earlier bravado had drained from him completely.

“Only if you tell him what you did to the Wreckers,” Bulkhead said, vocaliser rigid.

In a swift motion Knock Out slid out from behind Breakdown and thrust a digit at Bulkhead. “At what _he_ did!? _You tried to kill Breakdown!_ Your own ‘ _best friend_ ’!”

“Because he was a _traitor!_ ” Bulkhead retorted, venting out heavily. “By then, the Breakdown I knew was long gone.”

“Gone!?” Breakdown shouted, rearing back, “That’s _scrap!_ You dumped our friendship for Wheeljack’s Wrecker religion and set me up to _die!_ I trusted you! Why don’t you tell Smokescreen that!”

Breakdown came down hard on Bulkhead with two brutal blows with his hammer, but the third Bulkhead caught and pushed him away with both his fists. With Breakdown defenseless, Bulkhead threw his whole body weight into crashing his weapon onto Breakdown’s helm. Tripping back from the blow, Breakdown shook his helm, spitting out a large wad of energon.

“You’re the reason they stole my newspark!” Breakdown spat, dentae bared. “Why Knock Out and I broke apart! You stabbed me in the back, setting me up to die! And now you try to poison my only heir’s processor!?” And he flew at Bulkhead again,the two giant mechs colliding in a spray of sparks and energon mere widths from where Arcee stood.

“Bulkhead!” Arcee shouted to be heard over the clashing sounds that echoed through the halls. “Cut it out!” But the two mechs pushed past her in their brawl, almost stepping on her.

“Knock Out, stop him!” Arcee hissed.

But to her shock, Knock Out revealed a smile and regarded her through the corner of his optics. “Breakdown can handle himself,” he said. His vocaliser so cold and cruel, that Arcee had forgotten Knock Out could be capable of such a tone. 

The only other bot capable of helping her was Smokescreen, and he looked like he was having an internal crisis about to crash at any moment.

“Ultra Magnus,” Arcee tapped into her comm-link. “We’ve got a situation in the hall- whoah!”

Arcee was almost a splat on the floor if she hadn’t dodged Bulkhead stumbling into her. “Quit it- both of you! That’s an order!” she yelled again.

But her vocaliser was lost among the battling bots, both so intent on spilling the other’s energon.

Fed up, she yelled at Knock Out again. “Knock Out, if you don’t stop Breakdown _right now_ , Ultra Magnus is guaranteed going to revoke Breakdown’s Autobot status! This is _not_ a good first impression!” she snapped.

This caught Knock Out’s attention. He reached out for Breakdown. But Breakdown and Bulkhead both were so enrapt with their fight that neither of them noticed a bot as small as Knock Out. He tried again to cease the fighting when he stepped close to Breakdown a servo on his arm to try and pull him away.

“Breakdown,” Knock Out ordered, “That’s enou-”

_CRUNCH!_

A thick wave of energon splashed out of Knock Out’s chassis as Bulkhead’s weapon crashed right in the centre of Knock Out’s chassis between his headlights. Arcee thought she saw Knock Out’s optics dilate into slits for a sparkbeat. But as dawning of what just happened came to him, they widened and he clasped onto Bulkhead’s weapons in an attempt to steady himself.

“Bulkhead!” Arcee was horrified and she slapped a servo to cover her agape mouthplate. Even Smokescreen let out a cry.

“I- I didn’t mean t-” Bulkhead started to blurt out, but wasn’t able to finish. Breakdown seized Bulkhead by the shoulder and threw him as far away from Knock Out as he could.

As soon as Bulkhead’s fist was removed from Knock Out’s chassis, Knock Out’s knee joints hit the floor. Clutching his wound, he vomited up energon where it splashed onto the already growing pool from the energon pouring out of his chassis.

“Knock Out!!” Breakdown rushed to Knock Out’s side, wrapping his arms around his partner. But Knock Out could not stop vomiting energon and his frame convulsed uncontrollably over and over.

“Oh my Primus!” Smokescreen gasped, repelled by the sight.

“It _burns_ ,” Knock Out gurgled through the energon in his pipes. “Everything’s spinning!!!” and he flailed out of Breakdown’s hold and into his own pool of energon. Knock Out shut his optics tight, gasping, as energon poured from the corners of his mouthplate. “My spark- it _BURNS!_ ” he cried over and over.

“Don’t move,” Breakdown pleaded, trying to scoop Knock Out back up but Knock Out twisted back onto the floor and his clawed servos scratched at the air. “Stop! Stop the spinning, I-” but his frame shook and more energon gurgled out of his mouthplate. 

“It was an accident!” Bulkhead protested again, frozen with wide optics.

His speaking up distracted Breakdown and he glared at Bulkhead. “You tried to _kill_ him!!” he roared. He was just about to fling himself at Bulkhead when a large servo grabbed Breakdown by his back tire. It was Ultra Magnus. 

“Stand down!” he commanded and although Breakdown fought to free himself he was nothing compared to Ultra Magnus’ strength. “Arcee,” Ultra Magnus said, “Get Knock Out to Ratchet’s. Bulkhead- you carry him.”

“NO!” Breakdown hollered. “He did this to Knock Out!!”

“I didn’t know he was there!” Bulkhead floundered.

“I said get him to Ratchet’s _now!!_ ” Ultra Magnus’ vocaliser boomed, springing Bulkhead into action. In one rush, he scooped Knock Out off the ground who cried out from being moved, more energon spilling from both wound and mouthplate.

Arcee didn’t have time to address Breakdown, she pelted down the hall towards the spacebridge, Bulkhead in hot pursuit behind her. 

“My spark!” Knock Out reached out and clawed at Bulkhead’s face, “ _Don’t touch me_ ,” he hissed, “ _Put me down!_ ”

“Quick, contact Ratchet!” Bulkhead pressed, trying to pull his helm out of Knock Out’s mad scratching servos.

“Ratchet!? Ratchet are you there?” Arcee’s digits flew across the console panel in a furious speed to try and get through to Hangar E. But like before, access to Ratchet’s medbay was still blocked. Arcee cursed violently.

“This is an emergency call!” she yelled into the comm. “We have a bot down and in need of urgent care! Ratchet, if you can hear me set up a spacebridge _now_.” 

They waited for a bridge portal to open, but nothing came.

Furious by Ratchet’s selfishness, Arcee yelled into the comm again. “I’m _serious_ , Ratchet! Knock Out’s going to die if he doesn’t get medical attention _now!_ You’re all we have!”

Still nothing.

“Maybe Elita One’s bots have a medic,” Bulkhead said, fighting to keep a flailing Knock Out in his hold despite being drenched in slippery energon. “Maybe we should rush him over to her ship!”

Arcee glanced at Bulkhead, then at Knock Out. His wound where Airachnid had pierced his spark had not fully healed and it had been reopened. His chassis and sparkchamber had caved easily and Arcee could see glimpses of Knock Out’s spark- only from what she could see through the cracks, it was _flashing_.

“ _Frag_ , Ratchet!” Arcee screamed into the comm-link again. “Don’t do this to us! Knock Out’s losing buckets of energon, he’s going to die, he says his spark is burning and I can see his spark through his wound- it’s _flashing_ for frag’s sake!! Ratchet, we _need_ -”

That’s when the spacebridge portal opened. 

“Quick!” Arcee shouted at Bulkhead. “Go!”

Bulkhead ran through the spacebridge portal, Arcee right behind him. On the other side of the portal Ratchet was right by the entrance. 

“Get him on the medslab,” he ordered and Bulkhead instantly obliged, crashing Knock Out’s bloody frame onto the berth.

“What happened!” It was June with Raf and Jack next to him on one of the ramparts. “I thought things were supposed to be peaceful over on Cybertron!”

Ratchet was already hooking up Knock Out to his medical devices.

“My spark is burninnnngggg!” Knock Out sobbed again. His servos clutched at his wound and his optics darted all over the room wildly. “Everything is _spinning_ , I _can’t_ -” and he threw up again.

Without a word, Ratchet pulled a syringe out of who-knew-where and shot it into Knock Out’s pipes. He didn’t even fight, perhaps he knew what it was going to do to him and slowly, Knock Out’s optics fluttered and he settled, no longer twisting in agony. His chassis rose and lowered with great strain, his dentae gritted and although he looked drugged, he was still conscious. 

Arcee approached as Ratchet continued to work with professional haste. She could still see glimpses of the flashing spark through the cracks of his broken chassis.

“It was an accident,” Bulkhead said again, looking haunted and remorseful, “I hit him with my fist. But I didn’t know he was there, I didn’t mean, I…”

“Bulkhead, you can return to Cybertron, I won’t be needing you,” Ratchet said without looking up from his work.

Bulkhead lingered, as if he didn’t want to leave, but then started to head back to the spacebridge. “But he’s going to live, right?” he asked.

“I’ll send a report if I have him stabilised.” Ratchet’s reply lacked any kind of empathy. 

Bulkhead winced, but left. 

As soon as he was gone, Arcee rounded on Ratchet. “What was that all about, Ratchet?” she admonished, incredulous. “Why didn’t you let us through right away? Why did you block Access to Hangar E?" Then she turned to her human friends, "And how could you have let him!?” 

The humans gaped, all of them about to supply some sort of excuse Arcee didn’t want to hear. She directed her barrage back to Ratchet and jabbed a digit at him. “You owe Bumblebee a lot of explanations and right after we-”

“I’m going to need your help,” Ratchet interrupted. 

“What!?” Arcee yelped, “Me? What can I do? I told you, I’m no medic-”

“Knock Out’s spark is not flashing, as you described,” Ratchet said, guiding her quickly back to the medslab. Jack, Raf and June followed on the ramparts above. 

Knock Out watched her. His brows furrowed from the pain as his digits twitched and his optics winced. The look she saw in his faceplate, it said he knew, whatever Ratchet was going to say, Knock Out already knew.

Ratchet pulled on Knock Out’s chassis, causing him to hiss. But Ratchet ignored his pain and showed Arcee…

Knock Out’s red spark- but something else too. 

Arcee mouthplate fell open. She couldn’t believe it.

“A sparkling!” she cried.

A little sparkling was orbiting Knock Out’s at a dizzying speed. This had to be what was causing Knock Out’s spinning sensation, making his own spark sick from the constant rotation like a mini moon. But the truly frightening sight was that sparkling’s orbit was chaotic as it flew up and down and all around. Knock Out’s sparkchamber was filling with energon from the wound Bulkhead had dealt him and, as such, the sparkling was struggling to avoid drowning in the energon. In it's haphazard orbit, it would graze against Knock Out’s spark, burning him painfully.

“Is that…” Jack gaped, awed.

“But… I thought sparklings came from the Well of Allsparks?” Raf asked.

The only way a sparkling could be in Knock Out’s sparkchamber was if it had been sparked during a sparkmerge. But that was so rare that witnessing such a sight was unbelievable. But then, that’s how Bumblebee had been sparked, wasn’t it? No, it wasn’t impossible. 

“ _Remove it_ ,” Knock Out snarled through gritted dentae. “I don’t care what it takes, save _me_ first and _remove_ it.”

“I don’t have the tools,” Ratchet said. “So I will have t-”

“I do,” Knock Out said through a strained gasp. “In my ship.”

“You have a ship?” Arcee double shuttered.

“Of course,” Knock Out snarled. “How do you think I got to Earth? It’s still there, but even if I provide the coordinates, you won’t be able to get on board. Only Breakdown and I have the passcode.”

“Then get Breakdown,” Ratchet told Arcee. “I need Spark Gravitation Adjusters to reduce the sparkling's orbit speed. They look like this,” and Ratchet showed her a picture on the terminal screen.

"So you can't just reach in and grab it?" Jack asked.

Knock Out shot him a dirty, yet strained, look. " _No_ ," he growled, "and certainly not at this speed."

"He's right," Ratchet added, "And even with the right tools, this is still a very dangerous procedure..." his mouthplate clamped, his optics drifted to the side, as if recalling a memory. "I have only done it twice before and..." he heaved a vent of air, "only one was a success."

Arcee caught a genuinely frightened look pass on Knock Out's faceplate.

"You just worry about the procedure," Arcee told Ratchet, "I'll get the adjusters."

“Then hurry,” Ratchet hastened. “I can drain his sparkchamber of the energon to prevent the sparkling from colliding with his spark, but I will have to transfuse more energon to him and I can not patch the leak in his sparkchamber without the sparkling removed.”

“Got it,” Arcee nodded, she turned to dash through the spacebridge, but Knock Out's last words halted her in her spot. 

“But whatever you do,” Knock Out had fought to prop himself up and the pain it caused him was all over his faceplate. He told her in a threatening growl, “ _do not tell Breakdown about this_. You can _not_ show him the Spark Gravitation Adjustors, he will know what they are. I swear to Primus, Arcee, if you tell him about this, I will…” and he gasped from the overwhelming pain. He grabbed at his wound, the glow of his spark and the racing sparkling inside reflecting off his servo. She expected a threat, something about bodily harm or ripping out her own spark, but what she got was: 

“I will never forgive you,” their optics locked and Arcee understood the importance. As soon as he knew his message was conveyed, Knock Out laid back down on the berth.

“I’ll do what I can,” Arcee promised, disappearing through the spacebridge. 

Yes, she understood the importance to Knock Out, but Arcee wasn’t sure if she quite agreed with keeping this a secret. But that was a thought for a later time because right now, Knock Out’s spark hung in the balance and not just his, but a brand new sparkling too.

**  
_(The Flashback. . . During the War)_**

Knock Out was dying. 

Energon was leaking from every part of his frame. It trickled down his helm, mingling with the energon seeping from his shattered optics. He could feel it run down his arms and slip between his legs. Every vent in and out was a fight as his chassis heaved with labored strain.

Pain flooded his pain receptors. The silent alarm screamed throughout his entire system so intensely that he just wished he would crash already. But as Knock Out lay on the floor in a pool of his own energon, he was completely conscious of the real-world sirens blaring all around him.

But he didn’t care. He didn’t care if the whole Institute just blew up right then and there, because Knock Out was dying and there wasn’t anything he could do to save himself. Yes, he accepted it as he laid there in his own energon, fires burning throughout the entire building and the sounds of distant bombs exploding. This was the day Knock Out would die.

He thought of Breakdown. Would his sparkmate feel the moment when Knock Out’s spark failed? Would he know? Knock Out reminisced of the night they sparkmerged in his suite. How perfect and beautiful he had felt, loving against the backdrop of Translucentica Heights at night, the neon lights blurred and reflecting off Knock Out’s dazzling finish. It had been a sensational moment in his life, but so had their sparkbonding ceremony. Friends had attended, they had all seen how handsome Knock Out had made himself and how Breakdown could not stop admiring him. Smiles everywhere with all the attention on Knock Out on one of the most perfect days, shared with the one mech he just could not live without. 

Knock Out could recreate it all in his mind as he slowly closed his optics and...

“My, my, look how the prestigious have fallen,” said an approaching voice. “Laying on the ground like a broken and used toy. Not Zeta Prime’s favourite anymore, are we?”

Death be fragged, dignity was more important! 

“ _I’ll kill you._ ” Knock Out spat energon. With his last remaining strength, he forced his optics open to glare into those of the bot who had betrayed him. 

Trepan chuckled, looking down at Knock Out. It made Knock Out burn with humiliation.

“You’ll have to take a raincheck for that, I’m afraid,” Trepan replied, vocaliser flowing faux sympathy. “As it seems like you can barely even look me in the optics let alone get up! I thought for sure Zeta Prime would have ripped your spark right out of its chamber for leaking such sensitive information.”

Knock Out snarled. The digits he couldn’t even feel anymore twitched, the only visible sign of his urge to slice Trepan in two was the subtle twitching of the tips of his digits.

“You leaked the list,” Knock Out hissed, “and blamed it on me.”

Trepan just laughed. “Your pathetic love for a Wrecker made it too easy to link you as the saboteur. I barely needed to even suggest to Zeta Prime that it could be you before he was calling for your head.”

“The Wreckers will snap you in two,” Knock Out sneered through a mouthful of energon.

“Don’t worry about that,” Trepan replied, “I’ve got my escape route covered. Now, I’d love to stay and watch your spark fade, but it’s time to leave this burning pit-hole behind and move on to better things.” He paused by the doorway, fire reflecting off his entire frame. Trepan placed his long, wirey digits on the entry’s frame. “Oh! One last thought I must say- _thank-you_ for inviting me to your sparkbonding… thing,” he drawled, mouthplate curling in repulsion. “The energon was delicious.”

The hatred emanating from Knock Out’s optics burned and he thought it could crack what was left of his optics. Trepan could see it too, because his final observation was a cruel, mocking smirk before he left.

Gasping and trembling from the pain rippling through his frame, Knock Out could feel his energon seeping from him as he continued to bleed out. His helm felt light and it was becoming increasingly arduous for his optics to focus. Pain clouded his vision and everything became blurrier and blurrier…

Just as Knock Out was about to close his optics for the final time, something in the far off distance, something just a blur, darted across the hallway outside the lab’s door. 

Could that have been…? No, he knew it couldn’t be Breakdown. But it was a nice thought to dwell on as he died.

But the figure returned, lingering in the doorway.

As Knock Out watched the figure, the green blur became recognisable. 

It was Bulkhead.

In that one fleeting moment, they saw each other. Knock Out knew Bulkhead saw him. It was probably the happiest day of Bulkhead’s life since Knock Out came into Breakdown’s. Bulkhead was probably loving it, seeing Knock Out a sparkbeat from death, then Bulkhead would never have to deal with Knock Out ever again. Dreams really did come true.

Then, just as Knock Out predicted, Bulkhead disappeared to continue down the hall. Knock Out managed to clamp his mouthplate, and furrow his brow ridges just enough to express his realisation that he didn’t deserve that. 

What had he ever done to Bulkhead? Sure, he made fun of him, but what else had he done? Just fall stupidly in love with his best friend. Knock Out was a good conjunx endura, he had been a flawless lover before that. So what was it about him that Bulkhead detested?

No, no, you’ll never come up with a suitable answer, he told himself. And who wants to have _Bulkhead_ as their last dying thought? He would have stuck out his glossa if he could. So he closed his optics and imagined Breakdown, his handsome smile and those gentle, enveloping yellow optics... 

“Knock Out!” a shout came from far off in the distance. 

Even with a spark as weak as his spark was, it thudded with need against his broken chassis. Even before seeing his shadow looming over him, Knock Out knew his fantasy was now real.

“Knock Out! Frag!! Knock Out, what did they do to you…” the voice shouted above him.

Even though the movement was cautious, a surge of pain flooded Knock Out from being lifted off the ground and into Breakdown’s arms.

Inside, Knock Out’s spark yearned to touch Breakdown’s one last time. Maybe he could at least see those kind optics before he became one with the Allspark. Fighting to see past the energon clouding his optics, Knock Out saw a familiar bot blurred orange faceplate. His favourite colour. 

“Oh Knock Out,” Breakdown murmured, softly caressing his sparkmate’s faceplate. 

Another shadow joined them. It was Bulkhead. He spoke softly, “Thank the Allspark he’s a bright colour or I woulda missed him! Oh, slag…” There was a pause. “He doesn’t look too good… Ohhh, Breakdown.” A sigh. “I- I don’t think he’s gonna make it.”

“ _Knock Out doesn’t break that easy!_ ” Breakdown snapped fiercely, gritting his dentae. “We have to get him to a medic! He… he’s losing energon. Primus, he’s bleeding from everywhere...”

Knock Out felt his limp frame being lifted.

“I’m hauling outta here, Bulk, I’m taking Knock Out straight to a medic. You’re going to have to finish the clean up without me,” Breakdown said. He started to carry Knock Out out of the destroyed laboratory.

“Whoah, Breakdown, hang on.” Knock Out heard Bulkhead’s hulky pedesteps catch up with Breakdown. “You can’t abandon the raid now, we ne-”

“Frag the raid, Bulk,” Breakdown retorted and Knock Out could feel Breakdown cling to him tighter. “My _sparkmate’s_ dying. I don’t give a scrap about anything else!”

Bulkhead was silent for a moment. “Wheeljack’s expecting you at the top of the tower. He told you specifically to be there when he confronts Zeta Pr-”

“ _I don’t care,_ ” Breakdown shouted, rounding on Bulkhead. “I thought you _got it_. I thought you _really got it_. You were there, you were at my sparkbonding ceremony! But you still don’t get it?! Bulk, Knock Out is _everything_ to me but if you still see some seeker that’s out to make a fool outta me then I don’t know what to tell you! You think I care about any of this Wrecker scrap? It means nothing! _Nothing!_ If my sparkmate doesn’t make it then I might as well just rip out my own because… because…” and Knock Out felt himself being drawn closer, tighter, into Breakdown’s chassis. “Even if he doesn’t say it as much as me, he loves me. That night when we met and you were there and I saw him across the room, when we were drinking, I saw _him._ I fell in love and I’ve been crazy about him ever since.” Breakdown was moving again, leaving Bulkhead behind. “So I’m getting him to a medic and he’s _going to_ pull through.”

“Okay. Okay, I get it,” Bulkhead said, causing Breakdown to stop walking. There was a strange edge to Bulkhead’s vocaliser, Knock Out thought. But it could have just been his damaged audio receptors failing him. “But Jackie _needs_ you or… or the plan is going to fall apart. So I’ll take him. I’ll get him to a medic.”

“Y-you’d do that?” Breakdown asked, dumbstruck. 

“Yeah, I mean,” Bulkhead said evasively, “I know we haven’t, uh, agreed about much lately. But, yeah, I’ll make sure he sees a medic.” Knock Out could feel himself being transferred to Bulkhead’s hold. “I promise.”

“Bulk, th-thank-you,” Breakdown said. Knock Out felt Breakdown’s servo caress his faceplate. “As soon as I’m done with the clean up here, I’ll meet you at the hospital- okay?”

Bulkhead jerked in his walk, as if he wasn’t expecting what Breakdown just said. “Yeah, Breakdown. We’ll see you there.”

Knock Out wished it was Breakdown carrying him instead. He hated Bulkhead. The sounds of Breakdown’s pedes running away were swallowed by the sounds of fire crackling, of screaming bots and the entire building exploding. But Bulkhead ran past it all, Knock Out in his arms. 

It didn’t matter if Knock Out didn’t trust Bulkhead with his life, because it was about to be put to the test. Strength failing him, Knock Out released his struggle with consciousness and allowed whatever was going to happen- happen. He’d find out eventually if Bulkhead would keep his promise, as would Breakdown, he thought, closing his optics and succumbing to a black out.

 

Light. It started to fade through to Knock Out’s consciousness. Slowly, he opened his optics despite how heavy they felt. The entire room was lit from the daylight glowing through the window. The sunshine reflected off the white walls and quiet monitor screens. 

There were a few other bots in the room on berths. A couple were powered down, another was awake and slowly eating from a bowl of energon. He looked like he was just re-learning his motor skills too. Knock Out looked around the room for any signs about where he was but found nothing. However, from his own medic experience, his educated guess was that he was in the long-term after-surgery care room.

So he had lived afterall. Knock Out had quite a number of patches healing cracks all over his frame. He was still covered in dents and scratches, but the worst of his wounds had been repaired. 

There was a metal tray with a small bowl of energon on his berthside table waiting for him when he awoke. Knock Out picked up the tray and scrutinised his reflection in it.

He lightly grazed the scars of his faceplate with one of his delicate digits The scars marred his faceplate deeply, running from one side of his helm to the other. 

Knock Out shut his optics for a moment, a sudden memory hitting him of the massive servo of Zeta Prime’s grabbing his entire helm and bashing it against the table and of throwing him on the counter, the glass from the experiments he collided into shattering everywhere. And that was just the beginning of it all. 

Knock Out repressed those memories for now and continued to focus his attention on scrutinising his appearance. His helm had some dents and one of his optics was faded and slightly glitched. He would heal in time, externally, at least.

A medic’s assistant passed through the room, drawing Knock Out’s attention off of himself.

“Have any bots come by to see me?” Knock Out asked, placing the tray back by his berthside table. “Like maybe a big, bl-”

“Green bot?” the assistant incorrectly finished his sentence. “No, no bot has been here for you since the green one put you in our care.”

Knock Out pursed his mouthplate, contemplating the answer. He watched the assistant help the bot struggling to use the utensil to consume energon. This wasn’t the part of being a medic that Knock Out preferred. 

He felt caught in time, like the world had slowed and he was stuck with these bots recovering from their physical wounds. But there was so much more than that in the stagnant air. Their pain and suffering was candid and Knock Out could not look away. The bot in the corner by the window was tossing and muttering in his power down, another would sob every five breems and laugh every ten. It horrified Knock Out, disgust and anxiety both filling him up to his audio receptors as he fought to keep his helm afloat of his own memories. 

He didn’t belong here, Knock Out told himself over and over. His spark began to pulse faster and he could feel claustrophobia settling in. He never wanted to have anything in common with bots like these: a ruined pathetic mess with nothing but your own horrific memories drowning out your identity.

“How long have I been here?” Knock Out asked.

“Quite a few orns,” the assistant replied. He held the bot’s servo and guided his utensil to his mouthplate. “You’ve been through multiple surgeries within that time. One of our team’s medics can come by and discuss details with you in a joor.” 

The terminal next to his berth displayed his current frame’s stats. His sparkrate was normal and his energon levels were at standard. For the most part, he felt no physical pain, just an ache every time he shifted. 

The medic assistant was leaving the room, but Knock Out had one last question for him. 

“Where am I?” he implored.

The assistant halted just by the doorway. “Autobot Medstation just outside Iacon’s Northern post,” the assistant replied.

 _Autobot medstation?_ Knock Out’s optics flew open as he digested the information. Not the Wrecker’s medstation or a neutral hospital? Why would Bulkhead take him to the Autobots? 

But what _truly_ frightened him was how long he had been here- with _no visitors._

He hadn’t needed to hear it with his own audio receptors when Breakdown said he would be at the hospital as soon as he was done taking down the Institute with the other Wreckers. Knock Out _knew_ Breakdown would have been by his side, waiting for him to awaken from his surgeries. But he wasn’t. So what was preventing him from being here? For _orns?_

Aggrieved, Knock Out pushed himself out of the berth. Standing for the first time in orns, he wavered and had to grip the berthstand for support. But the urge to find Breakdown _right now_ forced him to walk towards the window. 

Perfect, just as Knock Out expected. They were on the second floor of the building. 

Transforming his drill out of his servo, he drew his arm back and drove it through the window, shattering the glass with a loud _CRASH!_

Instantly he heard cries of alarm from both the patients in the room and medics in the hall. 

“What’s going on!?” 

“Is everybot okay!?”

“What the-!!”

“HEY!” it was the assistant from earlier. No small army of medics, assistants and assorted hospital workers crowded the room’s doorway. All of them alarmed to see Knock Out standing in the broken window’s frame. 

“You’re not done healing!” the assistant cried, “You still need another surgery for-”

“Yes, thank-you,” Knock Out smirked. “I appreciate all of your time and effort to repair me, but I must be on my way now. Things to do, bots to see. _Au revoir!_ ”

Without waiting for a response, he backflipped out the window, transforming into his sportscar alt mode. He came crashing down onto the ground below, slamming himself into reverse. With a swinging u-turn causing Autobots just outside the hospital to dive out of his way, he pelted out down the road masked by a giant cloud and a deafening roar of his engine.

Knock Out refused to look back. No, he left it all behind him at that point in time. Instead, his optics were set forwards, towards Breakdown and that was enough to make him forget.

Joors passed on the road and whatever Knock Out was thinking this whole time, he would never remember. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking anything at all, but just focused on his obsession of finding Breakdown. 

Where he was going was a bit of a risk. Any other bot in his position would have returned to the Wrecker base. But being so close to Breakdown, he knew of another place the Wreckers were more likely to be after their raid of the Institute: a set of secret coordinates.

The gamble had paid off- a small light off in the distance flickered as he neared the coordinates Breakdown had once whispered to him, should he ever need to find him. 

Knock Out zipped past the front guards, both of them having made lunges for him. As soon as they heard an unknown car speeding into the heart of the Wrecker’s camp, every member came stomping towards him, attempting to form an entrapping circle around him. So Knock Out transformed and skidded to a halt, his pedes digging ruts deep in the ground.

Straightening himself, Knock Out dusted himself off with a sophisticated air while the Wreckers enclosed around him. But he refused to be intimidated, despite the smallest member of the encroaching group being more than twice his height. 

“Where’s Bulkhead?” Knock Out demanded, scanning the group of bots. His optics passed over each one, trying to drag out Bulkhead from the crowd. Or better yet, spot Breakdown. “Come out, wherever you are!”

“Who the frag do you think you a-” one bot started to yell, but Knock Out cut him off.

“Oh, shut-up,” he rolled his optics. “Contain your pathetic brovado if you can.” And he shouted louder so the bots in the back could hear him, “ _Bulkhead IF YOU’RE NOT OUT HERE IN FIVE KL-_ ”

“He’s coming,” said a mech, pushing his way through the crowd. He was shorter than the rest, but Knock Out recognised him right away. 

It was Wheeljack, the leader of the Wreckers. He stopped just a few pedesteps in front of Knock Out inside the circle with him. “You’re not supposed to know about these coordinates,” he said.

Knock Out smirked, a counter display. “I guess I have the Wrecker VIP membership,” he replied slyly.

Wheeljack just made a sound in the back of his vocaliser and crossed his arms. 

Bulkhead pushed through to the centre, looking taken aback and wary. Knock Out almost laughed maliciously. Bulkhead was always too easy, too fun to intimidate. But Knock Out was done with the banter games. His concern mutating into anger was mounting. His spark thudded inside. Breakdown wasn’t here. If he was, he’d have shown up by now. Which meant Bulkhead was the last bot to see him.

“Where’s Breakdown?” Knock Out said loudly. His optics would not let any move, any expression, any slightest motion of Bulkhead’s that could give away a hidden truth go unnoticed. 

Bulkhead did that thing that he’d do when he had information to divulge that would have to be dragged out of him- that shifting of frame and glance to the left. “He’s not here,” Bulkhead said, stating the obvious.

“Then _where-_ ” Knock Out began, but Wheeljack cut him off.

“He didn’t make it,” he said, expressionless. “Breakdown didn’t survive the collapse of the Institute.”

Knock Out felt like he’d been blown off his pedes. 

_Didn’t make it?_ What was that supposed to mean? Like, Breakdown was _offline?_

He knew he hadn’t hidden his shock because Bulkhead said, “A lot of them didn’t make it out.”

Knock Out’s optics darted all over the crowd with mounting suspicion. A lot of _'them'_? Who was ‘ _them_ ’ exactly? There were a lot of faceplates not present in the crowd that he was used to seeing back at the Wrecker’s base. Realisation started to wash over him and his spark began to race. All the bots missing were a lot of the same bots that Breakdown had been hanging around with lately. 

Something was wrong here.

Dread tingled inside him. Immediately, Knock Out’s optics locked onto Bulkhead’s. He hadn’t been expecting it, but he didn’t look away this time either. Then suddenly, they both understood the same thing:

_Breakdown wasn’t dead._

Knock Out knew this with certainty because they were sparkmates. If he had died, he would have felt the rift in his spark. And Knock Out saw his realisation in the reflection of Bulkhead’s faceplate. Because if Knock Out was here demanding where Breakdown was and not off dying of grief himself, Breakdown had to be alive.

That’s when Knock Out saw it. The truth right there on Bulkhead- on Wheeljack, on every bot present. All of them branded with a tiny little altered Autobot insignia. 

That’s why Bulkhead had taken Knock Out to the Autobot medic outpost. Because the Wreckers had _officially_ aligned themselves with the Autobots.

Knock Out took a step backwards. He had to go. He had to find Breakdown. 

“Get out of my way!” Knock Out spat, shoving bots out of his way as he turned back the way he came.

But some of the Wreckers refused to move and Knock Out was no match for them.

“Let him go,” Wheeljack said. “But I’d advise against coming back here.”

Now, the Wreckers parted for him and, flushing with a newly heightened fear for his sparmate, Knock Out pushed past them all. His processor was in a flurry as he tried to formulate a reason for all of this, a good enough explanation why things were not what they should be.

He could hear some of the Wreckers laugh at him, caught them exchanging expressions with each other, it was all the same. Just like back at Breakdown’s construction tower home where they all ridiculed him. Even with those ugly wings on his back gone, he was still ridiculed and it filled Knock Out with a fierce indignation. 

Instead of lashing out, he transformed into his alt mode and fled, their cajoling mockery fueling his speed. 

He raced and raced, burning his tires against the ground. Every road he turned down lead him back to where he had just promised to never return. Because Knock Out knew what it would look like now and it wasn’t something he wanted to see. He wanted to remember Translucentica Heights they way it had been, when Knock Out had been at the pinnacle of his life. 

But now, Translucentica Heights was reduced to rubble. Abandoned by any efforts to salvage it, it was now yet another casualty of the war. Only scavengers would be living here now.

If it hadn’t been for Knock Out calling this place home just a few orns ago, no bot would have been able to navigate the destruction. But using his memory as a guide, Knock Out drove towards what was left of the Institute. 

He had to transform and climb over the debris as he neared, the explosions would have scattered the once tall and proud tower all across the district, colliding into the other towers, including the one Knock Out had resided. 

“Breakdown!” he shouted, his vocaliser carrying over the derelict remains. “Breakdown! Can you hear me!?” 

Knock Out continued to call his name as he climbed over pieces of broken metal towards the centre of where the Institute had been. But no bot responded. Even so, Knock Out would continue to call for Breakdown, turning over more debris as he searched like searching for a rivet in a scrapheap. And the scrapheap was endless. 

He knew Breakdown had to be here, alive. He felt it in his spark that Breakdown’s own still pulsed. He started to recognise some debris, some familiar signs from inside the Institute. But that didn’t mean Breakdown was near. Knock Out recalled Breakdown, or Bulkhead, or one of them saying he would be at ‘the top of the tower’. Didn’t that mean Breakdown couldn’t have been buried that deeply underneath? He could only hope.

He lost time as he searched, unyielding, digging and tossing debris. All the while, his thoughts pressed him down, realising just how hopeless this task was and still he refused to stop searching. Because if he wasn’t searching, then that meant never seeing Breakdown again. He couldn’t live that way anymore.

“Breakdown!” Knock Out gasped, shouting out to anybot who could hear him. “Breakdown, where _ARE_ you!?”

He collapsed to his knee joints, his frame aching from his own wounds. 

Why did this always happen to him? To him _and_ Breakdown? Their whole lives on Cybertron, there were constantly getting the short end of things. It wouldn’t be long before somebot was ridiculing him, or beating them up for simply trying to live their lives. Knock Out could see the pattern for what it was now and it infuriated him.

Wings or not. Breakdown or not. Here on Cybertron, Knock Out could never win. There was always somebot to laugh at him, to pound on him or put him in a the place they perceived for him. Now, at the absolute worst things could get for him, losing his sparkmate and having just been beaten on the edge of death, Knock Out made himself a promise.

No more, Knock Out thought vehemently. His chassis rose with his conviction and he threw himself into more joors of searching. Breakdown was alive. He _had_ to be here.

Oblivious to how much time passed, Knock Out become weary and thirsty. He must have become delusional for it was then that he heard somebot shout back:

“Kn-Knock Out..!” 

Knock Out heaved another heavy piece of debris out of the way.

“Knock Out..!”

Knock Out froze. He squinted off into the distance and saw a figure making their way over to him.

If he could have transformed into his alt mode to cover more ground, he would have. Instead, he hobbled as fast as he could over the ruins towards the figure, his spark already pulsating with excitement.

Breakdown crashed at his pedes just as they met.

“Breakdown!” Knock Out exclaimed, his spark delirious. “Thank the Allsp-”

“It was a trap,” Breakdown gasped, interrupting him. “It… it was… a trap…”

The smile faded from Knock Out faceplate and he bent down, a servo on Breakdown’s back.

“Wheeljack…” Breakdown let out some coughs, as he did, sparks flew from a few of his joints. “Zeta Prime wasn’t there, it was Wheeljack… waiting for me… there were bombs…”

Knock Out swallowed hard, clamping his mouthplate firmly shut. It was just as he feared, just as he realised back at the Wrecker’s camp. All the familiar bots, Breakdown and his friends, missing from the crowd. Of course, there had been a very simple reason for that. 

“It wasn’t a clean up,” Knock Out said, whispering to himself. “It never was a clean up. It was a _cover-up_. Trepan leaked the list of clients buying weapons illegally, he made sure the Wreckers _and_ Zeta Prime found out. The Wreckers… all of them came to cover up the leak and in the process they...”

“... They took us out,” Breakdown said. His frame shuddered. “They’re going Autobot, Knock Out. The Wreckers are going Autobot and they want a clean record. I don’t… I don’t have that… me and the other guys… we were insisting... “ He fell into a fit of coughing. “We wanted the Wreckers to join the _‘cons._ ”

Breakdown collapsed onto the ground, shutting his optics and gasping heavily. “Bulkhead _knew,_ ” he continued to moan from the pain. His optics were flashing from damage. “Bulkhead sent me there, he _knew_. I thought… I thought he was gonna kill you for sure when I found out…”

Knock Out said nothing. 

“Don’t concern yourself with him right now,” Knock Out said after a moment’s passing. His vocaliser turned soft and comforting despite the rage churning inside as this information sunk in. He stroked Breakdown’s helm and began to medically assess Breakdown’s injuries. “We found each other again,” he purred, “just as we always do.”

Breakdown responded by exuding a pained sigh.

With Breakdown in his arms and the destruction of his home around him, Knock Out could not be more committed to his new goal.

“I’m going to fix you up,” Knock Out said. He petted Breakdown’s helm more. “We’re going to leave Cybertron and it’s going to be just you and me. We’re going to leave all of this behind.”

Yes, no more would Knock Out or Breakdown experience anymore painful memories. They would rely only on each other, in control of their own lives wherever they travelled. Frag this stupid war, frag their society and their structure. All it had ever done since the very beginning was bring each of them pain. Clearly, they couldn’t trust anybot but each other. Consider this a lesson learned.

Knock Out was about to ask Breakdown if he could stand, so he could get him to a place where he could care for him when a loud familiar sound blared overhead.

Knock Out lifted his helm to the sky, shielding his optics as he spotted a trine of seekers soaring above the wreckage. It didn’t matter if Knock Out wanted to hide from them or not, because a bright red and blue bot against the ruins below was easily spotted and the trio aimed directly towards them.

Each of the three seekers transformed in the air above him, landing one by one in a circle around him.

“I’m a medic!” Knock Out blurted out, before the seekers could use the missiles they had aimed and ready. “This… this is my…” he gasped, struggling to think on the spot, “This is my _assistant_.” He noticed the Decepticon insignias on all three of them. Of course. He was well aware that most seekers had aligned themselves with Megatron, they had been one of the first marginalised groups that the Decepticon leader had appealed to. “He was attacked by the Wreckers!”

The seekers lowered their arms and the alpha of the trio raised a servo to his audios. “I need a shuttle to my co-ordinates right away,” he said into his comm-link. He hadn’t even asked for details. “You were one of us, weren’t you?” he said to Knock Out.

He felt himself go stiff, noticing the three seekers eyeing his frame. 

“Yes,” Knock Out replied, leery. “I made this choice for _personal_ reasons.”

To his surprise, the alpha seeker nodded. “The Autobot scum have been relentless in bombing any of our towers. Even in Vos. Anybot with wings is a target. We’ll get you and your assistant to our base in Altihex, we could use a medic familiar with seeker biology.”

Knock Out nodded faintly, still blown away that something had actually gone his way for once. Although he agreed to the seekers and when the promised shuttle arrived and they hauled poor Breakdown’s frame onto a stretcher and into the shuttle, Knock Out promised them nothing.

He only had one promise, one commitment now. And that was to put himself, and Breakdown, first, above all else. Knock Out would never allow anything like this to ever happen again. From here on, despite the war raging around them, they would survive, together. And as cliche as it sounded to him, Knock Out adamantly promised himself a happily ever after.


	15. Into the Woods |&| Spark to Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcee is forced to team up with someone she never thought she'd work with in order to save Knock Out's life. One thing's for certain, it won't go as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter update with the flashback to follow soon! It's been so long I figured I would update the chapter as soon as it was complete. It should not be long before the flashback is added. Thank-you so much for everyone's continued support and interest in my story!! All the comments, likes both here and on tumblr inspire me to finish! We're getting near the end now! :)
> 
>  
> 
> **flashback added, thank you all for your patience!**

Soft rain pattered down on Arcee as soon as she stepped through the spacebridge. Her sensors were hit with the lush smell of wet plant-life. The portal had opened up on the edge of a forest near an open field that carried into the forest. As she strode forwards, tall, wet grass brushed against her, the beads of water on them smearing on her legs. 

“In there, I take it?” Arcee asked.

Behind her, Breakdown appeared through the spacebridge. It closed behind him. He said nothing to her as he pushed his way past the bushes lining the edge of the forest.

Okay, so it was going to be like that, was it? 

As soon as Arcee had made her way down to where Breakdown was imprisoned for a time-out, he shot to his pedes, concerned for Knock out. She briefed him that, with his help, she would need to gain access to his and Knock Out’s ship on Earth for some medical tools, but left out the details of why. Breakdown agreed, and Arcee released him. She had also comm-linked Ultra Magnus explaining what she was doing, much to his protest. But Arcee was insistent; however he and Bumblebee were planning to deal with his brawl with Bulkhead, it was going to have to wait. 

She saw the anxiousness on Breakdown’s faceplate the moment she appeared in the doorway to his prison cell. Despite the cold demeanor he always put on around her, it was obvious that there was something more to Breakdown that he was hiding. 

Arcee caught up with Breakdown, she paced him as they travelled between the trees. But despite his wide gait, his slowness of speed made her restless and she cruised ahead of him, trying to spot any sign of a Cybertronian spaceship through the density of the forest. 

“Hey, _Autobot_ ,” Breakdown called behind her.

Arcee’s servos couldn’t hit her hips fast enough. “This ‘Autobot’ has a name,” she scolded. “It’s Arcee.”

Breakdown came to a halt and thrust a digit to the space on his left side. “Hey, _Arcee_ ,” he grunted. “Need you to walk on my good side. Can’t see you when you’re over there.”

Arcee shuttered rain out of her optics, at first confused by what he meant. Ah, the optic patch of his, she realised. So she stalked back over to where Breakdown had gestured and made sure to explore within Breakdown’s line of sight. 

“And just in case you’ve forgotten,” Arcee said, “You’re an Autobot now too.” 

But Breakdown said nothing.

Arcee sighed inwardly. She just didn’t understand. Everything about Breakdown was a mystery and he obviously had no intention to take down this barrier he put up between them. But that wasn’t the only thing that frustrated her about Breakdown.

It _should_ be Cliffjumper beside her. 

Arcee wasn’t stupid. She could see through him and Knock Out the whole time during the trial. Breakdown didn’t want to be an Autobot. How he treated her, how he so easily lost his cool with Bulkhead. The only reason he was an Autobot was because of Knock Out and with them back together, who knew how long they would stay with the team. Why would fate give them Breakdown and not Cliffjumper?

Suddenly, she didn’t really care about making small talk with Breakdown anymore. Too bad she didn’t have a choice.

“How’s Knock Out?” Arcee was startled by Breakdown actually speaking to her first.

“He’s...” she paused, reflecting on what to even say. Knock Out didn’t want Breakdown to know about the sparkling. Although she didn’t agree with keeping secrets, especially after all the harm secrets have been doing on her team lately, she knew it wasn’t her place to bring it up. “He’s stable,” she said honestly, “For now. He has some tools Ratchet doesn’t have-”

“Knock Out doesn’t break that easy,” Breakdown said, almost as if reciting a phrase to himself rather than convincing her. “Bulkhead is going to pay for what he did to him.”

Arcee’s brow ridges flew up. “Now about that-”

“Give me a break,” Breakdown retorted swiftly, “Bulkhead’s been waiting to off Knock Out for years. Ever since he set me up to die.”

Arcee pursed her mouthplate. “That doesn’t sound like the Bulkhead I know,” she said.

“Are you Bulkhead’s girlfriend?” Breakdown’s question took her completely off guard.

She shot him a bizarre look. “What gave you _that_ impression?” she asked.

“You’re his type,” he replied with a smirk, “He always liked the tiny femmes, always made him feel bi-”

“Nope,” Arcee interrupted, dryly. “I’m not his girlfriend.”

“You a Wrecker then?” Breakdown asked. She wasn’t sure if he was being facetious or not. She wasn’t exactly the Wrecker build. 

Arcee shook her head no. “What’s with the twenty questions?” she countered. “Don’t tell me you’re actually trying to get to know me?”

Breakdown made a scoffing sound. “Trying to figure out how much you know. Bulkhead likes to twist the truth, make himself sound like I’m the problem. The truth isn’t always as clear cut.”

“I can get behind that,” Arcee said, trying to catch Breakdown’s one good optic. He glanced at her, then quickly looked away. “Sounds like you pin a lot on him.” She counted the list on her digits, “Trying to kill you, reporting Smokescreen- what’s that about? How could he be taken away if he belonged to you?”

Breakdown didn’t respond right away. She thought she heard a venting sigh before he spoke. “I found him, when as a sparkling,” he answered. “It was injured, dying. So we kept it. Guess the cops didn’t like a seeker and construction bot owning a newspark. Even after we applied for him too.” 

Sometimes, it was easy to forget how rough other bots lived before the war. “Why’d you keep him?” she asked. “Instead of turning in the sparkling?” 

Breakdown came to a halt. “You ever hear a sparkling cry?” he asked.

Arcee faltered. “I didn’t know they could,” she said.

“Neither did I,” he said, firm. 

“I saw that image card, you know.” She saw Breakdown glance at her. “The three of you looked pretty happy.” 

“Yeah, well, too bad that’s in the past,” he said, staring ahead. “Smokescreen’s happier with Bulkhead now.” He paused, and she could see him tense in anger. “Bulkhead took everything from me. Now he’s gonna take Knock Out too if we don’t get these tools.”

“Look, I _know_ Bulkhead,” Arcee replied. “You know he didn’t try to harm Knock Out on purpose, he was aiming for you knowing you could take the hit. I get that you’re mad at him, that he did things to hurt you, things he shouldn’t have done, that were _wrong_. But Bulkhead, all of us, we thought you were _dead_ this whole time, and with Knock Out a Decepticon at the time, what do you think Bulkhead’s motive was for taking Smokescreen under his arm, huh?” Breakdown stopped walking and stared down at her, his brow furiously furrowed as he listened. “Do you think that maybe what he was trying to tell you while you were taking a swing at him might be true?”

“What’s that?” Breakdown asked, begrudgingly.

“Maybe he’s sorry,” Arcee said. “And maybe that’s not all he’s sorry for. Look I know I can’t speak for him, but he went back to _save you_.”

Breakdown shook his helm. “What are you talking-”

“When M.E.C.H. captured you!” Arcee said insistently. As soon as she brought up the human organisation that had captured Breakdown and attempted to dissect him, he jolted, as if it brought forth an innate fear in him. She felt a small pang of sympathy for the ex-Decepticon. They had once tried to operate on her too. “We went to go rescue you, but Optimus Prime _specifically_ told Bulkhead not to come.” She watched as Breakdown’s optic widened. “That’s right, Bulkhead _disobeyed_. And he didn’t team up with us either, he went to rescue you on his _own_. Don’t tell me you forgot about that.”

This time, she allowed Breakdown to have his silence. It was clear he was processing everything she had just said. How had he felt, she wondered, when it had been Bulkhead of all bots, who came and saved him from being dissected alive. If Bulkhead was able to save his rival, to be his rival’s heir’s mentor, well, didn’t that say something to Breakdown?

Breakdown met her optics. “Bulkhead set me up to die. Sent me to the top of a tower during a Wrecker mission, telling me the bot that messed up Knock Out real bad was going to be there. But he wasn’t here. It was Wheeljack. And a whole lotta C-4 just for me.”

Arcee couldn’t fathom Bulkhead to be capable of anything like that. But then, you never knew what your closest friends were capable of in war.

“Bulkhead was really concerned about Knock Out,” she said. 

Breakdown met her in the optic, but he still wore a tight grimace on his faceplate.

“Maybe it’s time the two of you stopped taking swings at each other, and have a talk?” Arcee continued.

“Don’t tell me what I should do,” Breakdown retorted, shocking her. That barrier of his was back up faster than she could shutter and she just faceplanted into it. “You don’t know anything about anything! You think you can just solve a million year problem when you don’t know me? You talk too much, femme.”

Affronted, Arcee halted right in front of Breakdown, barring him from walking any further. “Then why don’t you give us a chance to know you,” Arcee crossed her arms. “You know, I’m reminded of the time I got to know Knock Out. He’s a lot like you after all, always putting up walls yet crying about how no-one wanted to be his friend.

“Huh!” Breakdown sneered. “Knock Out doesn’t want any friends.” 

“How would you know!” Arcee snapped back.

Breakdown drew himself up even taller. “Because _I_ know where _friends_ get us. They get us killed, that’s what.” He drew in a long venting breath. “How was _your_ six million year war, Autobot? You enjoy it much? Because what Knock Out and I have been through the Pit and back- it would make your nightmares look like daydreams.”

“This isn’t a competition,” Arcee returned, refusing to turn away. “I’m sorry you’ve had friends stab you in the back, but that’s no reason to turn away from everybot-”

“It’s what kept us alive,” Breakdown rebutted. “Can’t trust _anybot_.”

“Knock Out trusts me,” she snapped back before she could even realise what came out of her mouthplate. It was true. Right before she left, Knock Out was trusting her to not just keep his secret, but to save his life. He had put his trust in her many times since they had gone on their adventure to Luna 2. 

“Some friend you are,” Breakdown snapped. “Where were you, when I was gone and Knock Out was halfway through the hi-grade?”

She was confused, until she realised he was talking about all the empty hi-grade canisters in Knock Out’s suite. Obviously, Breakdown’s ‘death’ had hit him hard. 

“We weren’t exactly on speaking terms then,” Arcee answered honestly. “But I’ll tell you, he’s been indulging less since I’ve known him.”

Breakdown let out a huff of venting air before turning away from her. “Knock Out can manage his hi-grade, don’t get him wrong,” he said. “It’s when he uses it as a crutch that he, uh, indulges too much.”

“Then he’ll indulge less, now that you’re back,” she said.

“Maybe,” he said, although he sounded worried. “He wouldn’t have started, if I hadn’t been so stupid,” and he heaved out a great vent of air. 

“You mean since the whole Airachnid thing?” Arcee asked. 

Breakdown recoiled. “How do you know about me and Airachnid?” His defences went up and his entire frame tensed with caution.

“Oh, um,” Arcee wondered if she even needed to make up an excuse. “Knock Out told me,” it was sort of true? She had learned what happened from Airachnid as she had been mocking Knock Out during their torture session Arcee had witnessed.

Breakdown gritted his dentae, refusing to look at her. “I don’t know what you know but that was the biggest mistake I ever made and not because it cost me my life,” he lamented. “Seeing what it did to Knock Out, turning him into a drunk mess, tearing him apart. He’s so confident, you know?” Well, that was one way to word Knock Out’s vanity, Arcee thought while resisting an optic roll. “I like that about him,” Breakdown continued, “I like a mech who knows what he wants, who he is. But knowing that I destroyed that in him, even for a moment, I’m the worst. There’s no femme, no mech, that can make me do that to him again. Knock Out’s the best, he’s my reason for living.” Then as if he suddenly realised who he was talking to, his optic darted to her then looked away and an unmistakable tinge of colour flushed his faceplate. “Guess Knock Out must trust you after all, if he tells you things like that.” He still looked embarrassed. “I missed a lot when I was gone.”

“It’s not that hard you know,” Arcee said, forcing herself to smile, “Trusting other bots. You’re just rusty, that’s all.”

“I wish Smokescreen would trust me,” Breakdown replied, surprising her. “He looks like us more than I thought he would.”

“I wouldn’t blame Bulkhead for his evasiveness,” Arcee said as she considered the situation. “He missed the whole war, being in stasis. He didn’t have all those millions of years to colour his black and white world with shades of grey. He’s still learning. I bet the two of you will be knocking back hi-grade together before you know it.”

There, she caught it, a grin on Breakdown’s faceplate. “You’re something else, what did you say your name was?” Breakdown asked.

“It’s Arcee,” and she held out her servo. 

He paused, staring at her servo in front of him. “Well,” he said, “I guess Knock Out’s got a good judge of character, and you’re helping me save his life.” He reached out and with a huge servo, shook Arcee’s. She noticed how he was cautious enough to not yank her up and down with his shake, like Bulkhead was prone to doing.

“You might like it with us, just give it some time,” she said.

Breakdown looked down at her with a lifted brow, “No promises,” he said. 

It was just beyond one last set of trees did they reach their destination. The ship was a small one. About the same as Airachnid’s had been, perhaps even smaller. It was covered in fallen leaves and green mildew had begun to cloud the windows. The grass underneath had overgrown, curling and ensnaring the landing props. It had been a long time since this ship had seen the sky. 

Breakdown pressed a panel on the side of the ship and a small screen transformed out. It scanned Breakdown, calculated the data, then a ramp unfolded, settling into the soft ground in front of them.

She allowed Breakdown to take the lead. Once inside, Breakdown shook himself without warning, spraying water onto her. Disgusted, she shook the water off her arms and legs before following him further.

Before continuing down a hall, Breakdown pressed another panel, this time, it activated the lights. Having been dormant for so long, they blinked several times before lighting up. 

“When was the last time you’ve been here?” Arcee asked as she looked all around.

“Since we were called to the Nemesis,” Breakdown answered.

She thought of the overgrowth covering the ship and asked, “How long were the two of you on Earth for?” 

“About a vorn,” Breakdown replied, completely shocking Arcee. 

Even Team Prime hadn’t been on Earth _that_ long. All this time, Team Prime had considered themselves alone on this planet, and during that whole time, Breakdown and Knock Out had hidden themselves away on this planet, a secret retreat just for the two of them.

Down the hall, Arcee spotted three doors, all of them closed. It was the one on the left that Breakdown entered, a small medbay. 

“So what are we looking for?” Breakdown inquired.

Arcee entered the room, scanning the room for where Knock Out might keep a pair of spark gravitation adjustors. 

“Uh,” she stammered, realising she had never considered a cover story. “I’m not sure where they’re called,” she lied, “but I’ll know it when I see it.”

She moved over to a series of drawers on the left side of the room while she noted Breakdown began shifting through cabinets on the right.

Drawer after drawer, Arcee found nothing that looked like the adjusters Ratchet had shown her, just a lot of medical tools that were looking more and more bizarre to her as she searched. Occasionally, Breakdown would pull something out and show it to her, asking if this was what she was looking for. She’d have to tell him no, and continue her search. 

She was going through a cabinet on the ground when she found a small set of tins. Arcee had seen tins like that before, usually holding small patches to soak up energon and glossa depressors. But the strange thing was, she had just seen a set of these on the counter. Starting to put two and two together, Arcee reached for one and pulled it towards herself, peeking inside. Knock Out had hidden one of the adjusters inside. Quickly, she checked the other one and found the second adjuster. 

If Arcee was supposed to be really discreet, these tins wouldn’t be ideal for carrying them back. Breakdown could just lift a lid, that and he’d question why they came this way for such simple supplies. No, she’d need something else. 

“Hey, Breakdown,” Arcee called over her shoulder plating. “I’m thirsty, do you have any energon on this ship?” This could buy her some time while she searched for a container. 

“Uh, yeah, we should,” Breakdown replied. “I’m…” He shuttered his optics a few times. “Well now that you mention it, I’m pretty thirsty myself… I’ll be back.” From the corner of her optics, Arcee watched as Breakdown left the room.

Now, she picked up the pace. Rapidly, she searched through shelves and cabinets until she found an empty case large enough for the spark gravitation adjusters. But her search was futile and she was expecting Breakdown back at any moment. Of course, at the last possible klick, she found an empty case.

Arcee dashed over to retrieve the adjusters, unlatched the case, but fumbled and dropped them on the ground. Cursing, she quickly scooped them up and was about to stash them when-

She heard his pedesteps first and whipped around to spot Breakdown entering the room with two glasses of standard energon in his servos. Was it just her, or did he waver slightly? “I’m not feeling-” he began, but he must have seen part of the adjusters. “Hey, did you find what we’re looking for?”

“Nothing!” Arcee cursed herself again for blurting out an obviously fake answer. “It’s the tools Ratchet requested, that’s all.”

Breakdown definitely wavered slightly before making his way over to her. “Wait, I’ve seen those,” he said. He placed the glasses of energon on the counter but hesitated before pulling away from them.

Arcee struggled to block Breakdown’s view with her frame, but that wasn’t a smart move given how slim she was. 

“They’re just…” But Arcee couldn’t think of anything on the fly. “We should head back-” 

“Quit acting cute!” Breakdown said brusquely and the next thing Arcee knew, she was being shoved roughly to one side by Breakdown as he grabbed at the spark gravitation adjusters out of her hold. “What do you have there-”

He didn’t move.

Nor did Arcee.

“I recognise these,” Breakdown murmured, holding the adjusters. “What are they f…” and then his one optic flew open. In a swift move, Breakdown lined himself up with the mirror in the medbay, transforming not just his chassis open, but his sparkchamber as well to reveal…

His pulsing yellow spark. 

But just that. 

Just his own spark.

“ _Frag, Knock Out!_ ” Breakdown swore, transforming his sparkchamber shut. He rounded on Arcee, causing her to leap to her pedes and brace herself against the counter behind her. “You’re covering for him, aren’t you!?” he snapped.

“I-” she began but Breakdown wasn’t having it.

“He’s carrying a sparkling isn’t he!?” he said, insistent, bending down to line himself up with Arcee’s faceplate. Although she was confident in her own abilities, she had to admit he was becoming a bit intimidating. “And _you_ know and you were _both_ keeping it from me on _purpose_ , right!?”

“I-” she tried again, but again Breakdown cut her off.

“He’s keeping it from me because he has no intention of ever telling me!” Breakdown grit his dentae and thrust a digit a slight width on front of her faceplate. “Who the frag do you think you are keeping this from me! You think you can come between us!?”

“Enough!” Arcee forced herself forwards, giving Breakdown no choice but to take a step back out of her space. “He _asked_ me not to tell you. I never asked to be brought in between. This is between you and Kn-”

“Why would he keep this from me,” Breakdown asked, taking another step back. Was it just her or was he actually looking faint? “That doesn’t make sense.”

“He trusted me to-”

But again she was cut off when Breakdown rounded on her. 

“ _Trust you?_ ” he repeated, glaring. It was as if they never had that earlier conversation or that servo shake. All of that for nothing as Breakdown could rebuild that wall in a klick. “That was a _mistake_. Ever consider that maybe he’s just using you? Knock Out would never trust an _Autobot._ ”

Arcee lifted her chinguard. “Then I guess you haven’t realised how long you’ve gone,” she retorted. 

Breakdown let out a cold laugh, followed by a cough. “You silly femme, you think Knock Out’s interested in a little-”

“Oh no,” Arcee retorted, vocaliser scathing with attitude. “We’ve had that talk and I’m not interested in him any more than he is with me. Look, I don’t know how things worked on the Nemesis with Megatron in charge, but it’s pretty standard to trust your fellow Autobots.”

She could see his mouthplate start to curl from the words ‘fellow Autobots’. 

“Why did you even join us?” Arcee implored, shaking her helm. “If you hate us so much, why did you join and not go neutral?”

Breakdown was about to speak but he pulled back, suddenly surprised. “Go neutral? What are you talking about?”

Arcee hesitated, apprehensive by Breakdown’s confusion.

“You had a choice. Stay a ‘con and be charged, join the Autobots or go neutral,” she explained.

Breakdown paused. “Did you tell Knock Out that when he joined?”

“Optimus Prime did,” she replied.

Breakdown fell silent and Arcee could see by his lone optic darting as he thought that this was new information to him. She didn’t understand. Why was Breakdown so averse to joining the Autobots. They were the _good_ guys, after all. 

“Set up a spacebridge!” Breakdown demanded, his outburst startling her. She noted the adjusters in his tight hold. “Set one up to Knock Out right _here_ , right _now_.”

Arcee pulled away from the counter, as to not be cornered by Breakdown any longer. Keeping an eye on him, she lifted a digit to her audials to comm-link Ratchet. 

“R-” she barely got the first letter of his name out when the _clang_ of the adjusters hitting the floor caught her attention. “Breakdown?”

He had fallen to his knee struts, one servo on the counter to steady himself. He was straining to vent air in and out.

“Breakdown?” Arcee repeated. “Are you alright?”

“I…” he said with a cough. “Feeling dizzy, that’s all.”

A list of possible concerns raced through Arcee’s mind. She had just seen his spark so he wasn’t carrying a sparkling either, could it possibly be a sparkrift?! Was Knock Out… dying!?

Despite his aggressive manner, Arcee darted to his side and tried to ease him down against the counter.

“Hey, just relax, alright?” Arcee said. She attempted an awkward pat on his back. “I can have Ratchet here in a moment.”

Breakdown’s optic was having trouble focusing. He shook his helm and slumped further. “Maybe just… hand me that glass,” he said. “I’m just dehydrated, I think.”

“Of course,” Arcee replied. She quickly fetched him the glass of energon and watched him drink. 

“I need…” Breakdown heaved, “I need more…” and Arcee gave him the second glass. “More…” he said. 

“Where’s your energon storage?” she asked.

“Just…” Breakdown attempted to stand, alarming Arcee. But before she could ease him back down, he crashed faceplate down onto the ground.

“Breakdown!” Arcee cried. “Let me call Ratchet!”

“I’m just…” Breakdown was fighting to push himself off the ground. Arcee bent down to ease him back down. Faceplate obscured, he was straining to life his own helm. Abruptly, he quivered and convulsed and suddenly gagged. “I’m Just really… _thirsty!_ ”

Before Arcee could react, Breakdown reared back and to her horror, his entire mouthplate transformed, peeling open and a wild cable shot straight out at her.

“AAAH!” Arce cried. Instinctively, she leapt out of the way and onto the counter.

Aghast, she was able to watch as Breakdown stumbled back, still convulsing. His optic glitched and twitched and suddenly, it blinked from a gentle yellow to a savage purple. He heaved and, catching himself, he locked his purple optic straight onto her. 

“ _Energoonnnnnn…_ ” he hissed with frenzied hunger.

Breakdown was no longer himself. Arcee’s servo covered her gaping mouthplate. What she was seeing now… it was exactly like what she had seen on Luna 2 with Airachnid and the insecticons. What had Knock Out called them? _Vampires?!_ How in Primus had this happened to Breakdown!? 

“ _Energoonnn!!_ ” the vampire Breakdown roared before launching straight at Arcee.

Yelping, she leapt off the counter to the one on the opposite side of the room, just narrowly dodging Breakdown’s vampire cable. Breakdown crashed into the counter, almost crushing the spark gravitation adjusters underneath his pedes.

Panicked, Arcee realised she was going to have to lead him out of the medbay otherwise if those adjusters were to break, Knock Out and the sparkling might not make it.

Breakdown was recovering quickly. Arcee barely had time to formulate a plan before Breakdown was after her again. Letting out a shocked cry, Arcee dodged another lunge, aiming for the door, and- she let out a scream!

Breakdown’s glossa cable had shot out with a terrifying speed and latched around Arcee’s leg, crashing her to the floor.

Struggling, Arcee fought to free herself as Breakdown reeled her in. But the more she wriggled, the tighter the glossa coiled. 

Just before Breakdown could swipe at her, Arcee transformed her gun from her servos and shot with precision at Breakdown’s good optic.

Roaring back and letting out a haunting, beastly roar, he released her. As soon as his vampiric glossa flailed into the air, Arcee shot out from underneath and into the hallway.

She froze. She did not know the layout of this ship and was suddenly faced with a series of doors. But she had no time to think because Breakdown was bounding towards her. 

Gritting her dentae, she picked a door and ran into it, ending up in a small rinse room. Curse her luck!

Just as she was about to dart back out, Breakdown blocked her exit.

“ _Energgoonnn…_ ” he hissed, stomping towards her like he no longer had a mind. Arcee could feel her spark thud against her chamber in fear. The room was so tiny and she barely had room to flee.

His vampiric glossa shot forwards and Arcee, with nowhere to escape, leapt straight up in the air. She made a grab onto the shower head, which to her shock, fell out of its socket by a hose and she crashed back onto the ground.

She had no time to react, Breakdown slammed into her like a beast, pinning her against the wall. His servos were so large that she squirmed more out of pain from them crushing her little servos against the wall. She could feel his venting are and the glow of his purple optic reflected onto her faceplate. 

“Breakdown!” She attempted, already knowing this wouldn’t work. “Snap out of it!”

But Breakdown hissed, “ _Eneeerrgooon,_ ” and his glossa coiled up and towards her faceplate. The little pincers on the end twitching in thrill.

Then it lunged!

She dodged her helm to the left!

It lunged again and she just barely dodged it to the right!

She couldn’t keep doing this, it would catch next attack. 

Twisting in his hold, she looked up and saw the shower nozzles. Quickly, she transformed her servo in his hold and shot through a gap in his digits up at the nozzles. 

They shattered and water sprayed out.

Caught off guard, Breakdown released her, flinching from the spray. He created a gap just small enough for a tiny bot like herself to slip away from underneath. 

She grabbed the shower hose off the ground, looped it around Breakdown’s pedes as she slid out from under. Instead of fleeing the room, Arcee risked wrapping the cord around his frame, leaping over to the wall that held a rack full of cleaning canisters. 

Realising it was just harmless water spraying him, Breakdown was after her again. But just as he turned to attack, Arcee bounded off the rack, wrapping the cord further around his frame. Landing behind him, she yanked the cord as hard as she could. The shower hose completely entangled Breakdown and tripped him. He stumbled but wasn’t able to catch himself as he slipped on the water beneath him.

Before he could free himself, Arcee ran to the door still carrying the hose. It had just enough slack to make it through. Door shut firmly on the hose, Arcee crushed the doors code panel with a punch, locking the room, the shower head danging outside. That should keep him tied up for awhile, she thought.

Arcee darted into a room that she _thought_ was the medbay to grab the adjusters, but she stumbled to a halt when she realised she was in Knock Out’s berthroom. 

It had to be the largest room in the ship. She was taken aback by how grandiose it was, the windows went straight up into the domed ceiling. Through them, Arcee could see the rain outside splattering the glass and the green trees leaving just enough of a gap that she could start to see stars show through the setting sun. 

It was easy to be distracted by such a beautiful view. Remembering the danger, she had no time to admire the rest of Knock Out’s fanciful room. She was about to dash out when Breakdown burst through the door, colliding into her by surprise. She was thrown across the room and onto the large berth and into the pile of cushions. 

Pushing them off of herself, Arcee spotted an energon bar in the corner of the room. This could save her. But just as she was about to leap off the berth, her blades caught on the sheets, pulling her back down. 

In a mad fight, she struggled to free herself, but it was just the time Breakdown needed to attack. Tangled in the sheets, Arcee fought to dodge the vampiric glossa shooting at her. She had freed one arm and managed to block an attack with her blade just before the glossa could land a snip at her pipes. 

She twisted and wriggled, anything she could do to free herself of the sheets, but the more she fought off Breakdown, the more they both became entangled and Arcee had to use not just her blades, but even the cushions to block Breakdown’s hungry glossa. 

Fed up, Arcee transformed her servo into a gun, blasting Breakdown back in the faceplate. Roaring in pain, Breakdown fell back off the berth, dragging Arcee down with him in the tangled sheets. 

She yelped by surprise, but it was a blessing in disguise as she tumbled onto the ground and out of the sheets. Finally freed, Arcee pelted towards the bar. 

“You want some energon?” Arcee shouted at the vampire Breakdown, “ _Then come and get it!_ ” And with a slash of her blades, Arcee cut the taps and fresh energon sprayed out into the air.

Exposed to far more energon than what Arcee contained, Breakdown shoved past her and with his long cable, began soaking it up. He growled greedily, “ _Energoonnn...._ ” 

Arcee backed up towards the doorway, warily watching the vampire Breakdown gorge himself. Arcee had no idea how much energon was stored on this ship, but as she watched, he slowly began to slump into the pool of energon as he fed. It didn’t take him long to pass out. 

The only sound was the continued spray of energon from the broken tap. 

Arcee backed out of the room quietly, locking the door behind her. 

Finally able to vent, Arcee, too, slumped to the ground. Optics wide, she couldn’t believe what had just happened. 

Breakdown was an energon vampire.

She could barely believe it. 

How had this happened? Had Airachnid been a vampire and possibly bit Breakdown during their, well, 'time' together? 

It didn’t matter how it happened. She had to tell Knock Out that Breakdown was not as alive and well as they thought.

_Knock Out!_

That was right, he was still possibly dying on Ratchet’s medtable! Flying into action, Arcee raced into the medbay. This time she just grabbed the spark gravitation adjusters with no case since there was no need to hide them now.

Outside, it was still raining. She cast one last look to into the ship. 

All this time, Arcee had screamed to Primus that it wasn’t fair that life had given them this ex-Decepticon and not Cliffjumper. She had bemoaned that Knock Out didn’t deserve to have his sparkmate back because of everything he had done during the war. That life just _wasn't_ fair. Well, it really wasn’t fair, was it? Now, fate dealt her an unbelievable twist. Knock Out would have to learn sooner or later that his wish for his sparkmate’s return from the grave, wasn’t a dream come true after all- and Arcee had to be the one to tell him...

… If he pulled through his sparkling removal surgery, that is.

**_(The Flashback. . . During the War)_ **

“Got room for two in here?” 

The gate to Arcee’s berthroom cracked open, allowing a sliver of light to slice through the darkness. Although she was caught off guard, she recognised the voice instantly. Flicking on a small light by her berth, she settled back down.

“Cliffjumper,” Arcee scolded in a whisper. “What do you think you’re doing?!” However, a tiny smirk on her mouthplate revealed her approval.

Cliffjumper shut the gate behind him and slid onto the berth next to Arcee. 

“Well, scoot over! You gotta make room for my big aft!” He laughed boisterously, there wasn’t any way Arcee couldn’t restrain a laugh of her own at the sound of his. As Cliffjumper playfully shoved her over, she could feel his servo slyly rest by her own aft as they snuggled into one another in the dark. Arcee didn’t mind.

As they lie next to one another in the darkness, Arcee finds herself focusing on Cliffjumper’s venting air. In and out, in and out. These simple moments, she knew whatever became of her future, she would cherish them forever. War had taught her that.

“So what brings you over here?” Arcee asked, vocaliser quiet. “Other than wanting to share half a berth with me?” and she scratched him underneath his chin teasingly.

Cliffjumper’s chuckles delighted her to her very spark.

“Just thought I’d spend the night with my favourite member of team prime,” he said as faux nonchalantly as he could. His other arm slid around her slim waist. But his grin faded. “Actually,” he said, grim, “Bulkhead’s having another PTSD attack.” 

Cliffjumper must have seen the alarm flash across Arcee’s faceplate because he added hastily, “He’s calmed down now! He’ll be alright. Bee and I were easing him back to reality.”

“We should tell Ratchet,” Arcee began, but Cliffjumper calmed her with a sympathetic smile.

“He doesn’t want Ratchet- or Optimus- to know,” he said. “You know how Bulkhead is, he doesn’t want to hold the team back.”

“But-” Arcee began to object.

“Arcee,” Cliffjumper sighed her name. The sound made her flush despite the conversation. “I know he’s not! He just doesn’t want to cause a fuss. I think he’s kinda embarrassed.”

Arcee nodded. It had taken her a long time to put her trust in the other two members of team prime, Bulkhead and Bumblebee. But being on the small planet with only five other bots, she had come to not only trust them, but call them her friends as well. 

“Honestly,” Cliffjumper’s soft tone distracted her thoughts. “I get what he’s going through. Can’t say I was in the best condition after the attack of that sparkling centre years ago back on Cybertron.”

Arcee vaguely remembered the event. The centre that had belonged to Shockwave, back when he had a helm and two optics. 

“You were there?” Flashes of memories flickered within her processor. On the screen at the night of the party, she’d seen the fires and explosions still erupting from the building. Bots in the background screaming, jumping out of windows to save themselves. It chilled her, even after all she’d seen and experienced in the war. 

“Yeah,” Cliffjumper said, his brows furrowed as if he too was reliving the memories. “I try to forget, but sometimes it all comes back. I mean, it’s not as bad as it used to be. Felt like the whole thing stole who I was. Took a long time to find my way back to myself. Like I didn’t know who I was anymore. Luckily, I had a spark-brother to help me through.”

Arcee deflected her gaze. “I guess he’s…”

“Not around anymore, no,” Cliffjumper finished her sentence. “So I know a thing or two. But hey, you know what else I know?” he said, wrapping his arms tight around her, drawing her close. “Life is for the living, and I got you living in the room next door,” he grinned.

Even though he started to kiss along her chassis plating leading up to her pipes, something could not be shaken from the corners of her mind. 

“Were you worried about me?” Arcee asked, although she already had her suspicions. “About my own… stuff?”

“Well,” Cliffjumper began, he looked guilty. “You being in here all alone, yeah, I was a bit worried.”

“I just like having my own space better,” Arcee snapped. She didn’t mean to sound so harsh. 

“No, that’s fine!” Cliffjumper hastened to reply. “I get that- we get that! But I also know, you sometimes like having a sleeping buddy once in awhile.” and he snuggled his faceplate to hers, stealing a few quick kisses.

Flattered by his eagerness, Arcee fought the urge to retort back and instead, with a servo on his chassis, indulge in each kiss. Each one was so precious to her, to experience, that she kissed more and more, trying not to lose the rush of the one before it.

It was astonishing how easily Arcee slipped into this feeling of confidence, to allow her guard down and become a bot who knew how to kiss and be kissed. She spent millions of years fighting in this war not having laid her mouthplate on a single bot up until just recently with this amazing mech that, somehow, was able secure her ever-guarded trust. Arcee thought she had long ago lost sight of this former self, a self from before the war. Rarely, she would catch glimpses- like being around Cliffjumper. Without a single word, he could call to her innermost self, the real Arcee, and bring her forth proving that war had not stolen her identity. How, in all her millions of years, was he able to achieve such a feat?

With just a grin and a carefree laugh?

She felt his legs slip between hers, hooking her close and feel of his servo sliding over her aft. Arcee had no objections. Looping her own arm around the back of his helm, she dropped all of her walls and allowed herself to become what her spark desired. 

Like a remedy, she needed this. So overdue and so craved, Arcee plunged into each kiss fiercely, overpowering Cliffjumper’s own ardor for more. It’s not that they hadn’t done this, and more, before, it was just that every single time, it was like she had spent an eternity in a drought. Not for lust, but for that someone, who knew her this well and kept her sane.

She ran her servos down his frame, latching onto his waist and pulling him closer still. They spoke not a word, for once, Cliffjumper was silent as their mouthplates were far too busy with one another for chatter. As her intensity escalated, so did Cliffjumper’s, and she lost herself blindly in his hold. Pure bliss like this was so rare.

Arcee did not pay attention to time passing, but at one point, through shuttering optics, the sight of a faint glow caught her attention. Her mouthplate parted, her glossa around his, she didn’t think much of what the light was at first. But when it persisted, and she realised the source of the light was so close, she gasped.

“Cliffjumper!” Arcee recoiled within his hold. “What are you doing?”

It was his spark. A beautiful, pale red, like the setting of the sun painting the desert mountains just like the ones they had admired many an evening in each other’s arms. 

“Arcee,” Cliffjumper’s sounded serious. She rarely heard him speak this way. “I know we’re millions of lightyears away from home,” he let out a low chuckle and, so delightful was the sound, that Arcee could not contain her own smile. “And I know our home has been destroyed beyond all possible repair, but…” and he locked onto her optics in such a way that Arcee saw only him. 

_Perfect_. Such an enrapturing, soothing blue, all the emotions she had experienced when she had first lost herself in his optics now roused inside her. 

Even to this day, Arcee could recall, vividly, the first time she had truly gazed into Cliffjumper, when they had been escaping from Shockwave and Starscream back on Cybertron. Although she didn’t know her future with this mech then, she would always remember that feeling to her very spark. Because his optics felt like a purifying wave, that filled into every one of her battle scars and smoothed out all of her rough edges. It wasn’t only his perfection that lay in that infinite blue, it was her own reflected within. Everything she was, it was perfect to him. It was enough to make her spark weep. Somehow, Cliffjumper could see this in her, even if she could not.

“Arcee, who knows how much longer this war will last,” he said, tone demure. “It could be tomorrow, it could be millions upon millions of more years, beyond our own lifespan but, I’m asking you,” and he took both her servos in his. His next words would resonate within her for as long as she lived.

“It would be an _honour_ to be your sparkmate.”

Arcee’s sharp intake of air was the only sound in the room.

“I want to always be here for you,” he said.

His spark reflected off her own frame. It pulsed gently, so magnificent in it’s humbling red hue, she could feel it call to her own spark… that pull from within to join his.

Arcee transformed her sparkchamber open. As soon as she did, she could see the astonishment in Cliffjumper’s reaction. That cute, lop-sided grin of his spread.

“Arcee…” he said on vented air. “Your spark is _dazzling_.”

She had never shown her spark to anyone, other than medics and to Shockwave when he was testing her for that forever-ago experiment of his. Not to anybot she loved. Not even Mirage. 

She moved her spark near his. As their sparks neared one another, she could already start to feel not just the pull, but Cliffjumper’s very identity resonate as a distant echo. On the very cusp of touching his, she marvelled at how she could already feel such a strong wave of love from him. The rush was _exhilarating_.

Arcee withdrew her spark. Cliffjumper jolted in confusion.

The words were caught in her vocaliser. She had to choke to get them out. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said.

It took a moment for Cliffjumper to respond. “What’s worrying you?” he asked, keeping his tone amiable. Patient.

Arcee couldn’t look at him, or his spark. She started to fidget in his hold.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she said. Although she spoke this, she did not transform her spark away.

“What are you thinking?” She felt him trail the back of his digit along her arm.

Admitting her thoughts was strenuous. Not just saying them, but knowing that she believed them fully broke her own spark. 

“You’re right, Cliffjumper, this war could end anytime, anyday,” she spoke. The glow of his spark was like a magnet for her optics, slowly drawing in. But she felt a sorrow seize her as she spoke.

“And we could die any day too.” She tried to mask her fright at such a thought. “Cliffjumper, I’m scared”, she said, “I’m scared _everyday_ that I might lose you and what if I do and we’re bonded?” He didn’t reply. Arcee clenched her servos into a fist, but kept them resting on his chassis. “How could I deal with the sparkrift? I’d go insane. No.. no we shouldn’t.” She knew she was selfish, so she added, “It’s irresponsible to the team.”

For once, Cliffjumper was at a loss of what to say. Already, the pain of his rejection rippled from his spark. The guilt burned her. But she was adamant- sparkbonding during a war? The danger was paramount. If team prime lost Arcee of Cliffjumper in a battle against ‘cons, they would lose the other to the insanity of a sparkrift. They were only a team of six after all.

In a comforting gesture, Arcee reached out with her spark and lightly touched it to his. Within such a small act, she experienced a burst of emotions from Cliffjumper. 

“I love you, Arcee,” Cliffjumper whispered. “ _I love you so much._ ” She had never seen such a sadness in him. It was obvious he was trying to hide it with his quick grin. Cliffjumper was amazing like that. He never wanted her to feel pressured, or guilty. All he ever wanted for her was happiness, even at the sacrifice of his own. 

She placed a servo on Cliffjumper’s faceplate and held his gaze. 

“I love you too,” she whispered. Leaning into him, she pressed her plush mouthplate to his. 

So close, she could feel her spark graze his for a second time. Overwhelmed, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to sparkmerge. His love radiated around hers, teasing at the glow of her spark like soothing whispers ushering her into comfort.

She could hardly bare to part her kiss, mingled with the glow of Cliffjumper’s spark against hers, it was 

“When we have Cybertron back, and the war is over,” she said after a gasp. “Then I promise you, I’ll be your sparkmate.”

His optics was the only light she needed in all the galaxies. He believed her fully. 

“I’ll wait as long as it takes, Arcee,” he replied. “No matter what, I’m gonna see you on Cybertron waiting for me!” Then he chuckled deviously, “Now I’ve got an especially good reason to win this war! The ‘cons won’t know what hit ‘em!” and he laughed more raucously before pulling her into another kiss. So vehement was his kiss that Arcee believed that he could make the war end tomorrow with just sheer willpower alone. 

They transformed their sparks away and instead pressed close, sealed chassis to sealed to chassis. They didn’t need their sparks to merge tonight to find their passion for each other. It arose instantly with each kiss, each touch, their desire for each other peaked in a fervorous demand that they would not be able to end their night without gratifying their love in another way.

It was all Arcee could handle right now anyway, with the war still all around them. But she found solace in the promise she made with her future sparkmate. His optimistic and eager conviction was inspiration that this day was real, leading her to believe that it would all come to an end sooner that she could ever imagine.


	16. Into the Past |&| Road to Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knock Out has a decision to make, maybe some over-due history from the past might change his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received so many amazing comments on my last chapter! I can't thank all of you enough for taking the time to leave comments. Every time I received a comment in my inbox, it brightened my day. I'm so happy so many of you are enjoying this story and some of the things said were so flattering! Thank you- and to everyone who clicks 'kudos' here and 'like' on tumblr, every single one makes me smile. 
> 
> This update, I added the previous chapter's flashback, this new chapter and its accompanying flashback. Many thanks for everyone's patience! It was a long chapter to get through. In case it wasn't seen on tumblr, I would also like to say that I will be writing a new short story about Knock Out for the October Transformers Flash Challenge. Each week is only 500 words and since I write so much for Recon, I don't feel it will interfere with Recon's upcoming chapter update. We are now among the last five chapters!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this latest chapter and do not forget to check the last chapter's added flashback! :)

“I don’t want it,” Knock Out said.

With the tips of his claws, he placed the stasis canister containing the sparkling on the counter next to Ratchet.

“Add it to your collection,” Knock Out continued, still staring at the sparkling. “I don’t care what you do with it. I don’t want it.”

He hated the silence that inevitably followed. Ratchet, Arcee and the humans probably all staring at his back, the gears in their heads churning on what pathetic self-righteous thing to say to make him keep it. 

It was yellow, just like Breakdown’s spark. The irony was not lost on Knock Out. Maybe that’s what seized him the most. It was the _exact_ same yellow. Not even off by the slightest shade. It swallowed Knock Out’s attention whole and filled him with guilt as he knew Breakdown would if he ever found out. Like the lone surviving sparkling found in the rubble of the exploded sparkling centre all those millions of years ago, Breakdown would keep this one too. Knock out refused to live through that again. After all, he still was dealing with the _insulting_ ramifications of Smokescreen’s hatred of him.

His optics locked onto the sparkling floating gently in the stasis canister. A snarl formed on Knock Out’s mouthplate. He forced himself to look away and turn around.

Knock Out was right, they were all staring at him. Somehow, it made him angrier.

“What’s this?” he said, straining to keep the bitterness from his vocaliser. “No counter arguments? No guilt-laden speeches? What a surprise, especially from you,” and he squinted at June Darby.

But with folded arms, standing next to her son and the other human boy, she did not fight back.

“It’s entirely up to you,” she said, her voice even. “I’m more worried about your decision to keep this a secret from your partner.”

Before Knock Out could even say anything, Arcee blurted out, “Breakdown knows.”

His still tender spark skipped a pulse.

“What!?” Knock Out heard his own vocaliser say. Instantly, he felt weak in his knee struts. “I told you to not tell him!” 

His spark was racing, his poor aching spark that was still raw from being burned by the sparkling then nearly drowned in his own energon. Knock Out clutched the table to steady himself. He couldn’t even look at Arcee, it was as if she had struck him. 

Now he would _have_ to keep the sparkling. His optics darted to it from over his shoulder plating. It lightly bounced up and down in stasis, unaware of Knock Out’s fright. His optics darted away, unable to look at it for too long. No, he refused this. It was his choice and he would not go through all the pain he had lived through with Smokescreen. It all began to flash through his processor- too many memories to focus on just one up until the memory where the police bots had broken into his home and beaten Breakdown into unconsciousness, stealing Smokescreen away- and Knock Out too, who would then be subjected to his own beating at the station in front of their newspark. 

Knock Out was going to throw up and he had already been doing enough of that. 

His servos shook and his voice stammered when he managed to say, “It was the _one_ thing I asked of you!” Actually, it was the second. But could they not all see how badly he was reacting? Could they see his servos shake, his optics dart or his own pipes clench? He couldn’t hide his reaction even if he tried. “How could y-”

“He saw the adjusters and he put two and two together,” Arcee spoke a mile a minute. She took a step towards him but the reactive curl of his mouthplate made her stop. “It wasn’t on purpose,” her vocaliser terse. “I tried, I _did_. But I have to tell you something else, please- Knock Out?”

He didn’t want to hear whatever she had to say. His processor was flickering, unfocused, unsure. All he knew was what he wanted, he’d known it since he first saw the sparkling orbiting his spark earlier that day.

As soon as he and Breakdown returned from their little date at the racing arena, Knock Out stole away to confirm his suspicions. The dizziness after transforming, the motion sickness from racing, they were all symptoms. No, he had never experienced them before, but Breakdown had years ago. Knock Out knew this wasn’t simply his spark being wounded by Airachnid.

But what to do, when he saw the little, yellow sparkling inside his own spark chamber? Knock Out did not know.

What he _did_ know was that he _did not want it._

But Breakdown would. And that frightened him. 

“We need to talk,” Arcee interrupted his thoughts, her vocaliser urgent. “Let’s step outside-”

“No,” Knock Out cut her off. Not interested in whatever way she would say to try and ease him. “Ratchet,” he said, “take it.”

Ratchet startled at the mention of his name, as if he thought he had been omitted from this conversation as a simple bystander. He made no move to take the sparkling.

“And what am I supposed to do with a newspark?” he stammered, there was some agitation to his vocaliser.

“I don’t care,” Knock Out snarled, rounding on Ratchet, making him the new target of his festering rage. “What are you going to do with all those other sparklings in your garage? What’s one more!?”

“I won’t take it,” Ratchet said.

Now Knock Out was surprised. They stared at each other and with each passing klick, Knock Out felt his spark thud against his already aching sparkchamber. He narrowed his optics.

“Amuse me,” Knock Out sneered.

Vocaliser firm, Ratchet replied, “I will not be held responsible for another newspark.” A wave of shock hit everyone in the room. “Not again.”

“Again?” Arcee looked bewildered. She glanced at the humans, then to Knock Out as if any of them might have the answer. “What do you mean _again?_ ”

Ratchet’s optics widened, as if he hadn’t realised he had spoken aloud until just now. He turned from the group, grumbling inaudible things to himself.

“Ratchet,” Arcee pressed, now approaching him. “What do you mean _again?_ You said you’ve done this procedure, removing a sparkling from a sparkchamber, twice before-”

“Newsparks are nothing but trouble,” Ratchet retorted, silencing her. Even Knock Out was a little intimidated. “Why doesn’t somebot else take responsibility for a change!”

Then something snapped in Arcee, Knock Out barely had the chance to see it flash across her faceplate before she shouted, “ _Responsibility!?_ Are you _serious?_ After what you did to _Bumblebee?_ To _Optimus?_ All those secrets-”

“ _You don’t know anything!_ ” Ratchet burst like Knock Out had never seen him do before. Everyone froze as the words echoed against the walls. 

“Then tell us,” Arcee’s voice was quiet, terse. She held out her servos in an appeal. “ _Please,_ ” had Knock Out ever heard her beg? “ _Enough_ secrets. They’re tearing us all apart! Knock Out and Breakdown, Knock Out and Smokescreen, Breakdown and Bulkhead- _you_ and Bumblebee, all of us!” Arcee’s entire frame sunk revealing her anguish. “We can’t keep this up anymore, not if we ever plan to rebuild. We won a war, but now we’re looking for the next targets, and it’s each other.” Arcee paused, actually pressing her servos to one another, pleading, “For Optimus’ sake, please.”

Every part of Ratchet revealed how shaken, hollow and wrecked he must feel. 

“I,” Ratchet stammered. He was going to persist, to keep fighting, but, abruptly, he gave up. Shoulder plating slumping, he was no longer able to look anyone in the optics. “I can’t do this again. Just once has brought everybot I ever cared about pain. I will not take your sparkling, Knock Out.”

Before Knock Out could protest, Arcee said, “Then tell us. Tell us why, help us be there for you, Ratchet.”

Ratchet heaved another rattling sigh- a sigh so long, so despairing, it echoed all his millions of years.

“It was before the war broke out,” Ratchet said as he began his story...

* * *

“ _My spark is burnnniinnngg!!!_ ” A servo shot up and gripped Ratchet’s chassis. “Help me!! Please!” Energon spilled from the corners of the bot’s mouthplate.

Ratchet struggled to keep his repulsion at bay as he shoved the mech back down onto the medslab. There was no point in saying anything to him, the patient was delirious from pain. 

With his other servo, Ratchet reached for a syringe and slid it into the mech’s pipes. The chemicals deployed into the mech’s body, numbing the pain receptors and quickly lulling the patient into a complete shut down.

Ratchet worked expeditiously. He had all the tools, even if he had never used them before. 

At an hour like this, all kinds of patients came to him requesting his aid. Patients that would seek a medic out in the middle of the night in a back alley, hidden from all but those that knew where to look through word of mouth. Patients who could not afford a regular medic. Patients with all kinds of illnesses, especially those induced by illegal substances. But never had he run into a bot who had a _sparkling in their spark chamber_.

Ratchet’s servos operated with dexterity and as swiftly as if he had done this procedure a thousand times before.

Irresponsible kids today, Ratchet thought. Sparkmerging too often. It increased the percentage chance of something like this happening. But the rate was near zero percent, they would reason. Still, there was a possibility and being so young, with emotions so raw and explosive, things like this could happen when two reckless sparks combined. 

Ratchet was not supposed to judge. He didn’t. That’s why he helped bots like these, the unfortunate who could not seek help elsewhere. He just worried, that’s all, for all of them.

And although he worked with a professional speed, he was worrying a lot right now. The sparkling was out of control with its speed, smashing into the chamber and although he used spark gravitation adjusters to reduce its speed, it proved to be a stubborn opponent.

Hours flew by, the silence eating away at the time. Still, Ratchet was not any closer to saving either patient. His priority was the mech, but as time slipped by, their survival chances grew slimmer. The more he worked, the more Ratchet realised that breaking the gravitational pull between spark and sparkling was not going to happen. At least, not until the host spark collapsed.

Red alarms blared from Ratchet’s medical devices and he started to panic. The mech’s spark was giving out. 

_No!_

Ratchet did everything he could, he pressed every switch, hit every button, all that he could to stabilise the spark but, taking him by surprise, the mech began to convulse and the sparkling’s speed raced. The speed was so explosive that the gravitation adjusters’ settings broke. Ratchet scrambled to do something, to save _someone_ but-

_Beeeeep- beeeeep- beeeeeeeeeeeeep..._

A light in the room faded. It was the mech’s spark. Ratchet could make one last grasp at it, but it would be nothing but fading light in his servos. The mech was dead.

Ratchet was silent.

He’d lost patients before. But not like this.

The memory of the mech bursting through his doors in the middle of the night just a few hours ago, hit him hard. Stumbling in, energon dripping out of his mouthplate and crashing onto the floor, screaming that his spark was burning and to please, _please_ save him filled every part of Ratchet’s frame. He felt numb.

He had tried. He had tried _so hard._

He let out a long sigh. He could dwell on this later when he pretended to power down for the night. Now, he had to clean away the body from his medbay to prepare for the next bot that would crash through his door.

As he moved to unhook wires from the mech’s lifeless frame, he froze.

Ratchet was not alone. There, in the corner of the mech’s empty sparkchamber… was the tiny little sparkling. Somehow, it had survived the failure of the mech’s spark. 

_Impossible!_

Ratchet was in complete awe of this little sparkling’s will to survive. Any sparkling should have failed when the host spark faded, especially since their gravitation had not been successfully severed. 

Reaching into the sparkchamber, Ratchet cupped the tiny sparkling in his servos where it hummed softly. It’s soft pink hue lit up Ratchet’s faceplate.

With one servo, Ratchet bent down, searching for a stasis canister to store the sparkling in. Pulling one out, he placed it on a nearby counter and opened it. He’d take the sparkling to a drop-off at a distribution centre anonymously. They would be none the wiser that this sparkling had been sparked from a sparkmerge and not from the Well of Allsparks. They would find an appropriate beginning for this newspark, able to decode it and find out what function it would be best suited for once it became an adult.

Just as he was about to slide the sparkling into the canister, Ratchet heard a sound.

Multiple sounds. They were quiet, he had to strain to hear them. But the mechanical clinking of little parts transforming and interlocking was unmistakeable.

The sparkling was already transforming into a newspark. 

Ratchet tensed, his own spark seizing in panic.

Now was the time to slide the sparkling into the stasis canister and send it on its way. 

Now.

Right _now_.

But Ratchet hesitated.

He stared at the little sparkling, listening to it hum, almost happily, like a tune it had just made up. But that was crazy. He watched it pulse it’s brightening pink colour, like it was dancing without moving. But that was also crazy.

Getting rid of a newspark would be much more difficult than a sparkling.

He saw the deceased mech on the table. Ratchet didn’t even know his name. He knew absolutely nothing about him. What if his sparkmate came looking for him here? Or for the sparkling?

Ratchet was making up excuses. 

Why?

Because he was going to keep the sparkling and he didn’t even know why.

Ratchet lived alone. He ran his secret back alley medic aid for the impoverished and during the day, he was a renowned medic with important clientele. He rarely slept. Ratchet barely had time for the bots that called him a friend. 

With this sparkling, Ratchet would not be alone. Who was this little pink sparkling? Who would it become? A friend, maybe?

There were no other patients in the waiting room. The hour was late and Ratchet had worked passed tiredness. Listening to the sounds of the sparkling forming itself, he realised he was still making up excuses. 

Ratchet cleaned the medbay and retired for the night. Tucked under his arm was the sparkling as he carried it upstairs into his suite. He felt like he was doing something wrong. As if anyone caught him, he would be shamed. ‘Look at silly, old, loner Ratchet, holding a sparkling thinking it might one day be his friend. Pathetic.’ 

In his main living quarters, Ratchet flicked on one lone light by the back window and sat in the only chair in the room. He stared at the sparkling he had placed on the floor in front of him. 

Optics on the sparkling, he did not look away nor was he aware of how much time passed until its pink glow intensified.

Ratchet, for the first time, was watching a sparkling transform into a newspark.

The glow faded and the last interlocking sounds came from within. Ratchet gasped because there, in front of him, sat a small pink femme.

Her blue optics found him and for just a moment, his spark skipped a pulse. He was terrified all over again and started to curse himself for making such a stupid decision, why, why had he been so ridiculous to take in this sparkling. Perhaps he could still drop her off somewhere- 

But then all his racing thoughts dropped when the newspark smiled at him.

At _him_.

So wide, so full, so excited to see him. As if _he_ was the most important bot in her brand new little life. To be looked at in such a way, he would never admit it, but it melted Ratchet’s hardened spark. The smile he mirrored, well, he had no control over that.

Because he knew medically, and scientifically, that despite this little newspark _knowing, calculating, reading_ that its parent spark was not his, it still wanted _him_.

Her little arms shot out, reaching for Ratchet then she let out her first sounds, a series of electronic beeps and klicks. 

Ratchet did not hesitate.

In that small room obscured in Iacon’s inner city, history sparked. In this one moment, on this one particular night, privy to no-one but Ratchet, the old mech bent down to his knee struts. In cautious movement, he scooped up the newspark and held her close to his chassis. 

This was it, he thought, as he looked down at the newspark he held. There was no turning back. He would have an heir for the first time in his life, even if it was not really his own. Even so, Ratchet was highly aware that this would change the rest of his life. Only he had no understanding of how true that would prove to be. 

 

*

 

“Don’t tell me you kept it!” 

Ratchet rolled his optics, continuing to feign at being too busy to participate in the conversation, even if it wasn’t working. He kept glancing in one of the mirrors to check on the newspark in her play containment pod. But she was having too much fun playing with the toys he had spoiled her with to be aware of Ratchet’s friend peering at her from the other side of the glass.

“A femme too!” Pharma exclaimed, a sly grin on his faceplate. “Aren’t you lucky! They say femme’s are becoming rarer now, you might be able to go places, once she’s older.”

“Bah,” Ratchet replied, focusing back on the bot on his medslab. His patient had been wounded racing illegally. He would live. The only threat to this patient was if the bot was caught at the hospital by the police. “I don’t have time to think about tomorrow let alone the future.”

“You always say you never have time for anything!” Pharma bemoaned dramatically, flexing his seeker wings. “Yet you have time to play with her and not me,” his coquettish lilt to his vocaliser did not go unnoticed by Ratchet, but it did go by _ignored_. 

“Are you going to keep prattling or are you actually going to be of use?” Ratchet retorted. “Hand me those forceps.”

Ratchet knew Pharma was interested in him, as in, more than just friends. Ratchet never reciprocated. Perhaps if he really wanted to, he could find time, but why risk complicating one of the few relationships he had? That, and he knew of Pharma’s particular interest in the newly transformed seekers. Ratchet didn’t approve in luring minds so fresh and young, even if they were adults. 

Pharma handed him the forceps. “You’re going soft,” he said with a bored sigh. “I’m giving you an orn tops before you find it a new home. Isolation is your drug and we both know you’re a lost cause. ”

The silence between them was more than a little awkward. So Pharma picked up some tools and began to operate on the patient alongside Ratchet.

“Did you look into her spark at all?” Pharma asked, his tone finally serious. “Were you able to translate a name?”

Ratchet paused. He had contemplated doing this, glimpsing into the sparkling’s spark while he still could. Doing so would allow him to decipher her identity, catching fleeting flashes of who she was and what to call her. 

But it was out of pure selfishness that Ratchet could not bring himself to do that. His servos came to a stop in his operation. He hated being reminded of his fear of getting too close to anybot and he was ashamed that even though he saved this newspark, his fear extended to her as well. 

“No,” Ratchet finally replied, resuming his work. “But I’ve decided to name her Aerial.” 

While she was filled with energy, she still had this intensity for listening. She would just sit and listen to him talk whether to her or to himself. She was like a little aerial antenna, sometimes Ratchet would catch her looking as if she was listening to somebot that wasn’t even there. 

But as an orn passed, Ratchet would shorten her name to Ariel. Truly, a unique nickname for an increasingly unique bot.

 

*

 

The day that Ariel transformed into an adult started out as the worst day of Ratchet’s life (up until that point). 

He knew it was coming. The newspark had already begun transforming and he knew it could take up to an entire day. He stayed home from his day job that day and tried to preoccupy himself with tasks around his suite to keep him busy. But it was never enough to to distract his ever fretful mind.

His thoughts were all filled with what ifs. What if Ariel didn’t like him? What if she wanted to lead her own life? What if she wanted to stay? 

This was why most newsparks were cared for in centres, he scolded himself. The thought ‘I never should have kept her’ once flittered through his mind, but he instantly felt guilty for thinking it. Who could deal with this kind of pressure? Their society was too pragmatic for this kind of lifestyle. Newsparks were for the idle wealthy, for furthering status. Not for tired, old medics who just wanted to be left alone.

But when she transformed into an adult, and she stood in his living room and all of her pieces locked into place, it was the _best day_ of Ratchet’s life.

Those bright blue optics were exactly the same as they had the first time they laid sight on him. Yet this time, they focused on him with an intense intelligence like they never had before.

“Ratchet?” she asked. This was the first time he had ever heard her speak Cybertronian words. He voice, he didn’t know what he’d have imagined for her, but the vocaliser in which she spoke with, it was perfect- as if he had heard it all his life.

Ratchet barely had time to open his mouthplate, when she lunged at him with a joyous embrace. 

“Ratchet!!” she cried, a smile on her faceplate. Ariel bounced on spot, taller than him, broad shouldered and strong. “ _This is the best day of my life!_ ” 

Ratchet was too dazed to say anything. Immediately, Ariel bounced around the room from one object to another saying, “I remember this!” and “it’s exactly the same!” as if she had been gone for a very long time.

She so was full of life, just as she had been as a newspark. She wasn’t any different at all. 

“Are you going to stay with me?”

Ratchet didn’t realise he had said this until Ariel turned to stare at him. Suddenly, he felt very, very stupid for already making up a room for her upstairs.

Ariel was about to pick up a datascroll from the shelf when she stopped. “What do you mean?” she asked, rounding on him. 

Ratchet felt rooted to the spot underneath the spotlight of her curious optics. She walked towards him and he felt his spark pulse quicken. This was a mistake, this was all a mistake. This is why he didn’t let bots get close to him. As hardened as he was, he crumbled like an ancient brick wall when he thought of losing somebot close.

“You think I would leave?” she asked again, staring down at him. If she stared at him any longer, he thought he might faint. With all the energy she had, she sprung another hug on him, so strong, she lifted him right off the ground. 

“W-wha-” Ratchet started to blubber but Ariel cut him off. 

“Of course I want to stay!” Ariel let out a jubilant laugh 

When she placed Ratchet back on the ground, he could barely stand he was so overcome by her reaction. 

“Of course I’m staying,” Ariel repeated. It was that smile of hers that lifted his spark 

“Ariel.. Ariel… wait, you have to know,” Ratchet began, reaching for her as she danced up and down in his living room. “This isn’t something I want to keep from you.”

“Huh?” Ariel asked. She took Ratchet’s arms and swung them side to side. “What is it?”

He had prepared the speech, oh Ratchet had spent so many nights awake in his study preparing what to tell her. He had so many drafts, some with hundreds of words long. All he knew for certain was he had to tell her today.To prevent any shock and dismay in the future. Because he’d rather her leave today, like ripping off a healing patch, then learn the truth later, hate him, and run away.

“You are not my heir,” Ratchet said, taking his servos back. “Your carrier came to me with you in his sparkchamber. You were sparked from a sparkmerge between two bots and no, I have no idea who they are. You are not from the Well of Allsparks and you are not mine.”

Ariel shuttered her optics a few times, then let out a loud laugh. 

“What are you talking about!?” Ariel let out a laugh. “You raised me! I still have memories of being a newspark, silly! It’s always been you that’s been there for me- you were the first bot I ever laid optics on! Ratchet, are you trying to get rid of me?” and she poked him in the centre of his faceplate, suppressing more giggles.

Embarrassed, Ratchet began to fluster. 

“I don’t ever want to leave,” she insisted, clasping his servos in hers. “Not ever!”

Even though Ratchet knew a naive promise from a newly transformed adult wasn’t words to bet your life by, he chose to believe it because for once, on the best day of Ratchet’s life, he was happy.

 

*

 

“Ratchet, I met a boy!” Ratchet would never forget those words for as long as he lived. 

“A boy?” Ratchet repeated. He was in his study, going through documents of his day-time patients. The ones who actually had names on their files. “On your first day at the Hall of Records?”

Ariel nodded enthusiastically. By now, he was used to her bounding across the threshold whenever her energy was focused as it was now on this new boy she had met on her first day of her first job.

“He’s _sooo_ sweet, Ratchet, you would love him!” Ariel enthused. “We talked _all_ day!” And she plotted herself down in Ratchet’s big chair, resting her pedes on the corner of his desk and rattled off a list of all the topics they had covered during their shift. So long was the list and so many were her tangents, that Ratchet returned to his work. He checked into the conversation every now and then with a ‘ahuh’ and ‘sounds great’.

But when she ended her ramblings with, “I want you to meet him!”, Ratchet’s helm shot up from his work. 

“Meet him?” he asked, suddenly realising what they were talking about. “You just met him!”

Ariel let out a dreamy sigh, “I know, but I’m pretty sure he likes me too!”

Ratchet shuttered his optics. If only there was a manual for conversations like this!

“Let’s give it some time,” Ratchet finally said after thinking it over. He didn’t want to crush Ariel’s spirit. “Then I promise I will meet this boy of yours.”

“Promise?!” Ariel shot up from her seat, the weight of her leap shook some of the datascrolls on Ratchet’s desk. She held out her fist to him, waiting for his response.

“Promise,” Ratchet laughed. He obliged her by tapping his fist to hers. 

“You will absolutely _love_ him!” Ariel squealed before racing out of the study, waving her servos. 

Ratchet continued to laugh to himself, shaking his helm once before returning to his work. It had never felt so good to laugh again.

*

Orion Pax was a nice boy. He was quiet, polite and mindful of his manners. The restaurant they went to was posh but fairly priced. Just over the course of their dinner was Ratchet able to pick up on how alike the two bots were.

While Ariel was very outwardly excitable, Orion Pax was not without his own enthusiasm. He seemed to keep it internalised, to put on an outwardly reserved exterior, whether he knew he was doing so intentionally or not. But Ratchet could see his intense curiosity and excitement whenever Ariel would talk about her passions in life, which, this orn, was the datascroll she had just read about the history of mini-cons. Orion Pax was just as much a listener as Ariel was.

“I love him, Ratchet, “ Ariel confined to Ratchet as they drove home in their alt modes, side by side. “He makes me so happy.”

“That’s all I want for you,” Ratchet replied. Seeing Ariel so deliriously in love, it was exactly what he wanted for her. Even if that obnoxious worrying cloud within him wanted to rain on those thoughts, telling him it might lead to her leaving him. 

But that was okay, he’d tell that voice. As long as Ariel was happy and moving forwards with her life, he was genuinely alright with that. In fact, it would only bring more bots into his own life, it wouldn’t be her leaving. Still, this was all far off in the future.

“Do you know what he told me?” Ariel asked, referring to the moment alone Ratchet allowed the two to have just as they were about to part ways for the night. “He said he’d never met anybot like me before!”

Ratchet chuckled. “I think he likes you just as much as you like him,” he said.

Ariel revved her engine at the thought and squealed loudly. “Did _you_ like him, Ratchet?” she asked, picking up speed. “What did you think of him!? Oh, honestly, tell me!”

Then just before Ratchet could respond, a bright light burst out of nowhere and everything exploded before Ratchet’s vision.

*

“What happened to her!?”

Just the _time_ alone that Pharma wasted asking him this question infuriated Ratchet. With lightning speed, Ratchet was gathering his tools while also setting up all of his medical equipment for the emergency procedure.

“Just quit talking and _start working!_ ” Ratchet snapped.

Pharma sprung into action, not needing to be told what to do.

Ratchet cursed himself. He cursed himself a thousand times over. It was all his fault, if only he had been paying attention! Maybe then he would have been able to swerve in front of her and it would be him on this medslab and not Ariel, her energon pouring from her frame at an alarming rate. 

He thought he had scooped up every part of her. But Ratchet had been so in shock over the bomb that had gone off and the scene so chaotic with the fires and screams that he might have missed a piece or two of hers. At least he had all her limbs. 

_Beeeep…. Beeeeep… Beeeeeeeeeeeeep…._

_NO!_

Ratchet was frozen. This couldn’t be happening! By the Allspark, she could _not die!_

While shock hit him hard, Pharma continued to work. But Ratchet’s vision was so blurred with his own thoughts racing across his processor that he did not take notice of what Pharma was doing. 

“We can save her,” Pharma said. He turned dials and hit buttons. “Ratchet! Ratchet? Ratchet are you listening?”

Ratchet felt himself being violently shaken by Pharma. His servos gripped Ratchet by his shoulder plating.

“Ratchet,” Pharma said, he barely vented out. “We can save her. But… we’re going to have to reinstall her sparkchamber.”

The words resonated inside him.

“Reinstall a sparkchamber?” Ratchet echoed. “I… I’ve never done that before. Can… can it be done? A spark removed from the frame… it should kill the patient.”

Pharma shook his helm. “Sparks can be preserved in the sparkchamber, separate from the body,” he said, speaking swiftly. “Her sparkchamber is barely attached to her as it is, but her spark is resilient and I think we can do this. _Ratchet_ , this is all we have left to try, it’s either this or she _dies_.”

Terror flooded Ratchet, he felt like all the energon had been drained from him. He wasn’t skilled enough for this, he would fail her and it would be all his fault.

“Let’s get to work.” Pharma’s vocaliser was somber as he began to attach various wires to her sparkchamber.

Seeing Ariel so broken, her body torn apart by the bomb, he felt like a failure. Everything in his frame told Ratchet to retreat, but when he caught a glimpse of her still burning spark, he felt his resolve steel. Her spark had survived the death of its parent spark after all. He could save her. If there was ever a patient Ratchet needed to save, it was hers, the bot he cared about the most.

 

*

 

Ever since the spark chamber had been reinstalled, Ariel was different. 

Ratchet didn’t notice the change right away, it had been gradual, like something transforming within her slowly. It showed in her heightened interest in the world around her. Ratchet had assumed it stemmed from the why the bomb had gone off, but when her interest increasingly piqued over many orns, he couldn’t help but take notice.

She would talk about things she had never mentioned before, like why were bots put into jobs that were suited for their alt-type over their own interests and why were seekers so discriminated against.

She would spend more and more time at the Iacon Hall of Records. Ratchet assumed it was to be around that boy she liked, Orion Pax. But his name came up far less in conversations now replaced by all these questions and conversations about Primus. 

Sometimes, Ratchet would walk past her room at night, and when the light had always been off, and she had always been powered down, she would now be up late reading. 

So when Pharma invited Ratchet to a special party for some experiment of Shockwave’s at the Waves Estate, he told Ariel she could bring her boyfriend. She danced in her room the whole night with excitement, it was like the old Ariel had returned. Perhaps a romantic date night at a rich bot’s estate would deliver the Ariel Ratchet knew. 

Ratchet didn’t know that’s the only thing that night would deliver.

 

*

 

“What do you mean I can’t keep the t-cog?” the red seeker twittered his wings out of agitation. “It belongs to _me._ ”

Ratchet had just spent the entire night and half the morning with Pharma, both of them operating on this reckless seeker who had been dropped off the night before, unconscious and bleeding out from a failed attempt to remove his own t-cog and replace it with another. Now, arrogant and unappreciative, he wouldn’t leave the waiting room.

“It broke,” Ratchet rumbled, fighting to keep back his own frustration with his patient. It was lie. Ratchet wasn’t sparked yesterday, he knew that if he returned the t-cog, this seeker would just try to find another way to install it. Probably visiting a blackmarket medic without a real degree who would do the operation for the right amount of credits. 

The seeker haughtily placed his servos on his waist in indignation. But when Pharma walked into the room after cleaning the medbay, the seeker jolted in alarm.

Irritably, the seeker waved a servo, “I need to go. Where’s my newspark?”

In the corner of the waiting room, Ariel stood up with the newspark in her arms. “Over here! You’re so lucky, he’s such a sweetie!” she cooed, handing him over to the seeker, who must’ve been its sire despite not being a seeker itself. “I could tell he was really worried for you- but he stopped crying when I started playing with him!”

“Of course he was worried,” the seeker snapped, tucking the newspark in the crook of his arm, his other servo wrapped around almost possessively. “He’s _mine_.”

At this moment, the large mech that had brought in the seeker lumbered down the staircase leading to Ratchet’s upstairs home. Ratchet’s optics almost popped out of his helm. He wasn’t supposed to be up there!

“Thought I heard your voice,” the mech said to the seeker. “You okay?” He stood awkwardly, lifting his arm then keeping it at his side, like he wanted to put his arm on him but was too nervous in front of so many other bots. 

“Never better,” but the seeker sounded bitter. “Let’s get out of here.” He shot one last dirty look at Ratchet who had to swallow his frustrated sigh. 

As soon as the pair left, Pharma smirked. “Hasn’t changed at all,” he said. When Ratchet did not respond, he must have noticed Ratchet staring at all the newspark toys in the corner of the waiting room because he next said, “Ah, it’s been a long night. I’ll meet you upstairs for a spot of warmed energon.” 

Ariel bypassed Ratchet without so much as a glance. He knew she was pretending to preoccupy herself with filing.

“Where did all these newspark toys come from?” Ratchet asked.

“Oh, um,” Ariel could never hide her fluster. “Well, I bought them! For the waiting room, for times like today!”

“We never have newsparks,” he said. Suddenly, dawning really began to sink in. “Ariel… don’t tell me…”

She was a terrible liar, she always had been. “Ratchet, I’m sorry!” her wails were so desperate, she fell to the floor, hiding her faceplate in her palms.

Immediately, Ratchet was by her side behind the counter. “Ariel,” he wrapped his arm around her broad frame. “What did you do?”

She was weeping for the first time that he had ever heard. “I’m sorry,” she gasped through sobs. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking! I just…At the party… we were alone… and… and I love Orion _so much_.”

Then before Ratchet could question her again, she pulled back, transforming her chassis open to reveal her spark… and a tiny golden sparkling orbiting hers.

“Ariel… no…” was all Ratchet could say. 

He wanted to be furious, but he was too numb and Ariel too distraught. Even though all he could think of was the mech that had come to him late in the night, delirious and in pain from the sparkling, little Ariel, burning his spark and his death on Ratchet’s medslab, he let her weep. 

Because for once, Ratchet felt like he knew Ariel again. Like she was the bot she had been that he knew, not this new post spark reinstallment Ariel who ran around all hours of the night talking about injustices and preaching about Primus. Ratchet didn’t understand where that Ariel came from. But maybe now with a sparkling orbiting her spark, maybe it would set her sights straight again and everything could return to normal. 

 

*

 

“They’re both going to make it,” Pharma’s vocaliser, although relieved, revealed his exhaustion. 

Together, Ratchet and Pharma spent all day removing the sparkling from Ariel’s spark. Ratchet was reassured this time because of Pharma’s help. His friend kept him focused and not fretful. Only when Ratchet held the sparkling in his servos did he really allow himself believe the operation had been a success.

He marvelled at how small it was. Less than half the size of his or Ariel’s. How had such a little thing survived, he had no-idea. But just like it’s carrier’s spark, this sparkling was tenacious.

Ariel fought to sit herself up. “I want to know my sparkling’s name!” she exclaimed, reaching for the tiny sparkling.

“You’re too weak,” Ratchet advised. “Give your spark some time to recover.”

But Ariel drew the sparkling close, so close, they lightly touched. Her optics glowed blue as she searched within the sparkling to view its identity. Ratchet waited on bated breath.

Abruptly, Ariel crashed back down onto the berth, her energy depleted. Ratchet was immediately by her side, checking her diagnostics. 

“Just exhausted,” Pharma said, placing a servo on Ratchet’s shoulder plating.

So Ratchet withdrew the sparkling from Ariel’s arms and allowed her to rest. 

“He’s… he’s going to be _magnificent,_ ” she murmured, barely awake. “Ratchet… he’s so small, but his spark inside is so bright! I’m going to call him Goldfire. My little Goldfire… I’ll cherish him forever…”

*

 

She had left a note. That was it.

She wrote that she was on a mission from Primus which meant she had to leave. To where, she did not say. For how long, it was not stated. 

The note was left on Ratchet’s favourite chair, the one he had sat in the night he had watched her transform from a sparkling to a newspark. 

It wasn’t a long note. Goldfire was mentioned only once. She said to watch over her little black and yellow newspark, that she trusted Ratchet to raise him right. She thanked Ratchet for all he had done for her. But nothing she wrote alluded to any kind of future.

That was all. Ariel was gone. Forever. She never came back.

Ratchet did not stand for a very long time. It was only Goldfire’s little wails for energon that provoked him into movement. Everything he did was just because he had to. He was nothing but an empty shell. Despite everything, Ratchet had not been able to avoid the pain of her leaving after all.

After a few orns, Ratchet realised he should reach out to Orion Pax. Surely Ariel had told him about little Goldfire. Although he had never come by, Orion had to be wondering how his newspark was doing. 

So with Goldfire riding, transformed and attached to his back, Ratchet forced himself to the Iacon Hall of Records, the only place he knew to find Ariel’s sparkmate. 

He found Orion Pax in the political section. Ratchet was about to call his name when somebot else walked up to Orion.

Ratchet thought he recognised him. Yes, it was the gladiator who had been speaking out a lot about the rights of the lower caste, even of mini-cons and seekers. Megatronus. So popular were his doctrines that he had earned his freedom from the gladiator ring by social pressure from the people. 

Ratchet didn’t know he was a friend of Orion Pax, or possibly even Ariel. But with all the erratic interests Ariel had been speaking of before she left, it made sense.

Removing Goldfire from his back, now in his arms, Ratchet was about to approach Orion Pax. Then he halted at what he saw next.

They kissed.

Ratchet was stunned. Megatronus had his servo on Orion Pax’s arm. The way they looked at each other… well, clearly, Orion had moved on from Ariel’s absence. He wouldn’t want to be bothered with a newspark. 

Hollow, Ratchet left the Iacon Hall of Records, never to return.

 

*

 

Goldfire was still a newspark the morning that Ratchet heard a knock on his front door. It was Ratchet’s next door neighbour, the psychologist. They occasionally shared morning energon and lengthy medical discussions together. 

“Good morning, Rung,” Ratchet greeted him. Goldfire was tucked in his arms. He was happily beeping with a toy in his clutches. 

“I wish it was a good morning,” Rung replied with haste. He kept glancing over his shoulder, his chassis heaved anxiously. This wasn’t just going to be a friendly morning chat.

“What’s wrong?” Ratchet inquired.

Rung lowered his vocaliser, “I’m not supposed to tell you this. I’m breaking my client code-” Ratchet started to tell him to stay silent, but Rung shook his helm. There was terror in his optics. “They’re coming for you.”

Dread hit Ratchet. 

He stumbled on his speech. “W-who is them? What…”

Rung was frantic, he pushed himself inside Ratchet’s home and shut the door.

He clearly mouthed the words: “ _The council_.”

Ratchet shuttered his optics multiple times. Why would the council want him? By the Allspark, did they know about his second job helping the poor bots of Iacon with his medical abilities. Even still, even if what he was doing was illegal, it surely wasn’t important enough to attract the attention of the council.

“W-why?” he asked.

“They know about you, about your night-time practice and… and they know about _him._ ” Rung pointed at little Goldfire. “They say he belongs to Orion Pax, the activist.”

By now, everyone knew of Orion Pax and Megatronus, the unlikeliest of _friends_ who were fighting back against the council and trying to change Cybertronian society. Outwardly, the council supported their endeavours. 

Ratchet felt his spark in his pipes. He had to leave. He had to destroy all his data on his patients and flee with Goldfire. 

“You need to get out of here _now_ ,” Rung turned to leave. “

“Wait!” Ratchet barred Rung from leaving. “I… I need your help.”

Rung started to protest but Ratchet knew his time was short and this was the only way to save Ariel’s newspark. A life on the run was no life for a newspark. No, Goldfire had to start anew far away from Iacon and those that might recognise him. He was close to transforming into an adult. The council would never know who he was. 

“Please,” Ratchet begged, “Take Goldfire. Take him to Rodion, I have a friend studying at the Deltaran Medical Facility. His name is Tumbler, he’ll help if you mention me.” 

Rung hesitated but to Ratchet’s amazement, he took Goldfire and nodded. Goldfire looked confused, but not too distressed at being held by a stranger. 

Just as they were about to leave, Ratchet added, “And don’t call him Goldfire! He has to have a new name.”

Rung again nodded. He turned to Ratchet one last time and said, “Good luck, Ratchet. I’m sorry it had to come to this.”

Ratchet was too. How it had come to this, Ratchet had no idea. It felt like one morning, he was old and lonely Ratchet, living his life on his own and somehow, he was fine that way. But in that one small act of letting a seemingly harmless sparkling into his life, he had with a single servo, ruined his own, marking himself for a lifetime of pain that would never leave him.

Ratchet would be arrested that night and taken to serve in the gladiator ring until he told the council what happened to Orion Pax’s newspark. Ratchet told them the truth, his truth. Orion Pax had no newspark, and Ratchet had no idea what they were talking about.

 

*

 

The war began and no matter where Ratchet travelled, he would never see Ariel again. But Orion Pax and Goldfire however…

Goldfire introduced himself as Bumble when their paths again crossed. Eventually, he liked calling himself Bumble _bee_. Still, Ratchet knew it was him, Ariel and Orion Pax’s sparkling. He looked exactly the same as he had as a newspark. Black and yellow with those blue round optics.

Bumblebee took an intuitive liking to Ratchet and Ratchet kept a careful watch over Ariel’s heir. He’d be on the edge of worry every time Bumblebee went into battle and every time he would return, Ratchet would repair all of his scars. He would even smile when he could watch from his medbay window as Bumblebee indulged in what little freedom he had with friends like Tailgate, Cliffjumper and Arcee.

Ratchet still had Bumblebee. A small gift that Ratchet kept to himself. War was no time to go into the past and tell Bumblebee the truth. 

But Orion Pax, like Ariel, was gone. But unlike Ariel, some other bot took his place. A bot called Optimus Prime, the leader of the Autobots. 

He wasn’t the same and yet Ratchet saw the similarities between the two. Yet somehow, becoming Optimus Prime, he had aged twice over and was no longer the shy young mech Ariel had been so infatuated with. Optimus Prime was a leader. And over the years, he and Ratchet two would work closely with one another. Years, millions of them in fact, and over all of these years of knowing each other, Optimus Prime would come to call Ratchet his old friend, never making any mention that he even had a memory of who he, or Ariel, was. 

No, their new friendship was built simply on each other as Ratchet the Autobot Medic and Optimus Prime the Autobot leader. A friendship, that to Ratchet, was so important, out of anything in the whole universe, as Optimus Prime became the bot Ratchet cared about the most.

 

* * *

 

“I fell in love with Optimus Prime,” Ratchet’s voice was not even a whisper. “Not Orion Pax, but Optimus Prime.” He paused and no-one vented air. “And that is why I never told Bumblebee who his sire was. Yes, even when I knew Optimus was going to return the Allspark to the Well I still withheld the truth.”

Silence. 

Arcee’s faceplate was one of utter shock, the humans too. Knock Out was not. Not that he had known. It just didn’t surprise him. In his millions years, he had learned what love was and understood its capabilities. Plus Megatron was always calling Ratchet Optimus’ lap dog. Wasn’t there an Earth expression for that?

“Now Optimus is dead,” Ratchet’s tone had a cold finality. “And he will never know Bumblebee was his and Ariel’s- or whatever she’s calling herself now. I… I should have told Optimus, but I didn’t because I was _selfish_. Don’t you see? It’s my reason for everything I do! I was _so selfish_ that I didn’t even tell him my feelings. So there was no point in never saying anything about Bumblebee to begin with.”

“Ratchet,” Arcee said. “I…” But she lost her words.

“Sparklings are nothing but trouble,” Ratchet said, standing firm. Knock Out was unnerved to be the subject of his next speech. “I will continue to house the sparklings from the Well as long as they stay within their stasis canisters. But this one,” and he pointed at the yellow sparkling in its canister next to Knock Out. “I refuse to repeat this for a third time.”

Knock Out felt condemned. Was there no escape for his own fate? Like Ratchet, he was doomed to repeat his horrifying past for a second time. The humans just didn’t understand, the way they talked about family, it just wasn’t the same for their species, even if they genuinely tried.

A sound beeped from the bridge console. The smallest human ran to answer the call. 

“It’s Breakdown,” said the human boy Knock Out thought was called Raf. “He’s requesting a groundbridge.”

“Don’t-” Arcee began but Knock Out waved his servo dismissively. 

“We can’t keep him waiting forever,” he said. But he felt the full weight of what was to come hit him hard. Breakdown already knew. 

That, and Arcee was right. _No more secrets_.

The groundbridge lit up and as soon as he saw Breakdown’s silhouette, every strut in Knock Out frame tensed. He wasn’t ready for this. It would have been so much easier if Breakdown had never known.

“Knock Out?” Breakdown stood on the other side of the room. His gaze swept from Ratchet, to Arcee (who looked bizarrely stunned for some reason), then to the humans and lastly back to Knock Out. 

Breakdown barely moved, he barely wore an expression. But Knock Out knew him all too well. Signs that only he could see, that time taught him, revealed the stress and nervousness Breakdown felt- but also the anger.

Breakdown looked Knock Out up and down. “You okay?” he asked.

Knock Out’s vocaliser felt caught in his pipes. “I’m fine, yes,” Knock Out replied and dusted off his chassis more out of a defense mechanism to deflect to his his good looks than to dust anything off himself.

There was a pause from Breakdown. Knock Out hated this, he hated the waiting, the fighting. The last time they fought like this was when Knock Out had discovered where Breakdown had been spending his extra time. They hadn’t exactly resolved that the right way either.

“You weren’t going to tell me,” Breakdown stated, not a question.

“No, I wasn’t,” he admitted. “I don’t want it.”

Knock Out watched as these words cut at Breakdown, it was in the widening of his optics, the slight grit of his dentae, the small heave of his chassis and the fleeting fidget of his digits. 

“Why not?” Breakdown asked and Knock Out simply felt insulted that he needed to even ask. 

“Smokescreen’s a good enough reason, isn’t he?” Knock Out said, half wishing he had said it more sarcastically.

Breakdown was about to say something when he noticed the sparkling inside the stasis canister. Knock Out’s spark was lodged in his pipes.

“We can do this one right,” Breakdown finally spoke. “Away from the Autobots, we can go back to Earth-”

“We’re not keeping it,” said Knock Out, dangerously insistent.

He was taken aback when Breakdown narrowed his brow ridges at him. 

“Why not?” There was an edge in Breakdown’s vocaliser, something very uncommon from him.

“I told you why-”

“You don’t tell me _scrap_ anymore.” Breakdown’s retort was swift, cutting.

Knock Out felt his spark quicken.

“What do you mea-” he started to ask but was quickly interrupted.

“When were you gonna tell me we could’ve gone neutral, huh?” Breakdown’s mouthplate was taut. Knock Out could tell when Breakdown was fighting to keep his anger in check. It worried him. Breakdown wasn’t finished. 

“You said we were just playing at being Autobots til we could leave,” he said, servos in fists, “but you never told me they offered you a free pass straight from the get go!” That look he gave Knock Out, it was like he didn’t even know him anymore and it hurt Knock Out to his very spark to be looked like that from his sparkmate. 

“When did you start lying to me?” Breakdown sneered, his lone yellow eye radiating with emotion. “Don’t even answer that! I get it now. Since you joined _them!_ ” He jabbed a digit at Arcee. “What happened when I was gone?” His anger flickered and Knock Out caught a moment of hurt flash on Breakdown’s faceplate. It tore at him to hear Breakdown say, nearly pleadingly, “It’s supposed to be you and me, Knock Out! _You and me!_ So… so why the scrap are you choosing to stay with Autobots when you could’ve left!?” Breakdown was heaving from his outburst, unable to hold back any longer.

Knock Out had lost all of his control. It had all unravelled in front of him as hard as he fought to spin and keep things, keep _Breakdown_ , exactly how he wanted them. Sometimes, Knock Out forgot Breakdown was one thing he should not try to manipulate. As his sparkmate, they were equals. 

Utterly powerless, Knock Out took a step back and gripped the table for support. He stared at his lover, pained by how he looked at him with immeasurable confusion and hurt. So he looked at Arcee, who was stunned and sad for him. 

No more secrets, he thought.

“Do you remember when I told you what happened to me when you were dead?” Knock Out asked, struggling to keep his own emotions in check. “You don’t know what it was like… every day, every hour, every _astrosecond_ spent realising just how _alone_ I was. I told you I had become expendable, that I knew my life was quickly coming to an end in Megatron’s optics. But that was _nothing_ compared to the isolation I had to live through after your death- Breakdown, I was _alone!_ ”

Knock Out felt himself flush from revealing such personal truths. He could no longer look at anyone around him. Being so publically humiliated, it burned inside and yet the floodgate was just beginning.

“Breakdown,” his vocaliser crackled, “You were _dead_ and I had _nothing_. Choosing neutrality…” He clenched his servos so tight, he clawed at his own servos. “Don’t you get it!? Neutrality was not an option- it was banishment! Even if I returned to Earth, I would have nothing, don’t you understand? Living alone for all my millions of years to come, why, that’s _purgatory._ ”

He stared at the ground, but he was unable to ignore the glow of the sparkling in the corner of his optic.

 _Why?_ Why did this sparkling have to spark from their sparkmerge? The pain of looking at it, of thinking of Smokescreen and thus everything he ever had to endure in his life poured out of Knock Out, completely unscripted and all from his very spark. 

“Even under their stupid probation,” he sneered, flexing his digits restlessly, “At least I wasn’t alone! When Optimus Prime came to me and said I could join the Autobots… do you know what a _gift_ that was to me? What it meant to me? Maybe you see it as an insult, Breakdown, but for me, I never thought I’d ever be shown such kindness from a Prime.” He didn’t have to look at Breakdown to know he understood. “But Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots offered kindness to _me_ , even after all I've been responsible for leading up to the final days of the war. _Still!_ Breakdown,” and he finally looked at Breakdown. His expression incomprehensible making Knock Out even more frantic in his conviction to persuade him. “I’ve made _friends_. Them,” he waved a servo at Arcee, Ratchet and even June Darby, “If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have even found you! I don’t just owe them your life, but you do as well!”

His processor was spinning, it was too much to be put on display like this. Knock Out loved being the centre of attention, but not like this. Not when he had lost all control. They could all see him for how humiliating he was but he was beyond caring now. 

“I know you’ve been hurt by bots who have called themselves our friends before,” said Knock Out, attempting to recompose himself. “So have I. But I trust her,” and he gestured to Arcee. “I trust all of them.”

Breakdown shifted himself uneasily. Knock Out knew Breakdown was aware that nothing he said could change his processor, or that even possibly, that Knock Out was right.

Then just as easily, quicker than he expected, he recovered from his emotional outburst and slipped into his cool exterior. 

“I don’t want to go to Earth,” Knock Out said. "I want to go back to Cybertron, and I want you to be there with me… With them.”

Breakdown was silent.

“I want to keep the sparkling,” was all he said.

“No,” Knock Out replied.

“It came from our sparks,” Breakdown insisted. 

His persistence over Knock Out’s own feelings felt like an insult. Like everything Knock Out had ever been through meant nothing to Breakdown. That, somehow, this sparkling was more important than him.

“Then you can keep it,” Knock Out spat cruelly. “But I want nothing to do with it.” Breakdown’s optics had a way of melting him, but he defied them this time, unwilling to sway. “Take it back to Earth and when you’re doing playing with it, once it’s an adult, you can come find me. I’ll be on Cybertron waiting.”

That look of devastation in Breakdown almost made him crack. But the memories that haunted him were far stronger. 

Knock Out was done here. He strode past everyone, turned on the spacebridge and left for the _Nemesis._

Everything in his frame and spark told him not to do this. 

It was déjà vu. When Breakdown had left him that morning long ago to dispose of Airachnid with Dreadwing, when Breakdown and Knock Out had parted one another, still unresolved and Knock Out still sparkbroken over what had occurred, yes, it was all of that all over again. 

Only this time, it was Knock Out walking through that door. 

 

_**(The Flashback. . . During the War)** _

The sound of last night’s raindrops tapping onto his hood from the trees above stirred him out of his slumber. Slowly, Knock Out stirred, allowing his senses to take in his surroundings. He was still parked in his alt mode, Breakdown in his, powered down next to him. 

The world around them was still damp from last night’s downpour. Knock Out could feel the wet grass beneath his treads squish and the little droplets of rain on his windshield speckled his vision. 

They had travelled far last night. Now, they were more than a few orns journey away from their ship. Today, Knock Out felt like it would be a good day to begin their journey back. Being on the road for orns at a time was never tiring but sometimes, he missed the comforts of home, like his stash of hi-grade energon and all the exciting toys they had left stashed by their shared berth.

Late last night, they had arrived in the nearby town and had driven through it to see it all lit up and strewn in decorations. The humans were having some celebration of some kind, which meant their drive-in theatres were showing marathons of the type of movies Knock Out liked best. The thrillers and monster movies, with lots of death and blood.

But when the humans had all retired for the night save for the trouble-makers that wanted to throw bottles at him, he and Breakdown raced out of town to go wherever they felt like.

Far from the human town, Knock Out felt flirtatious and drove in a reckless way that he knew Breakdown enjoyed to watch, revving his engine as loud as he could. 

So they had pulled off and found an empty field in the dark. Surrounded by nothing but wilderness, the two mechs transformed out of their alt modes and, simply put, played in the field. Laughing, shouting and crying out in delight, they joked and ran, Breakdown had grabbed him and spun him in the air and together they crashed down on the ground and watched the stars. 

Knock Out knew none of them nor the constellations, so together they made up their own. But they lost their seriousness quickly and were coming up with silly and soon dirty things that had them in a fit of laughter. 

When the laughter subsided, they fell into a comfortable silence.

“You ever think about him?” Breakdown asked abruptly. Knock Out immediately knew who ‘he’ was.

“No,” Knock Out lied.

They hadn’t spoke about him in millions of years.

“Ever wonder what it was all for? I mean, since he died in the end.” Knock Out stole a glance at Breakdown. His arms behind his helm, looking up at the night sky as if the stars had an answer. Even in the seriousness of his conversation, Knock Out greedily felt a flush of desire for his mate’s build. 

“You say that as if everything has a purpose,” Knock Out replied, setting back down. “Some things just happen, Breakdown.”

“I guess so,” Breakdown said, a small sigh escaping him. “I wish he hadn’t died.”

Knock Out had nothing to say as he stared up into the night. He thought of that one time so very long ago when he had been so young, so new, when he had for the first and only time sired a sparkling. It felt like somebot else, not him. Everything on Cybertron was long ago and Knock Out no longer cared for any of it. His last thoughts on Cybertron had been a silent promise to himself, and to Breakdown, to change their lives around. 

Like the newspark, Cybertron was dead. And Knock out didn’t care. Cybertron had always even a place of ruin for him, but here, on earth, after all their millions of years of war, Knock Out had finally found their freedom. This was all he had ever wanted. So simple, nothing but he and Breakdown and no strife. But earning such a privileged life felt like Primus himself was against their happiness.

He stole another glance at Breakdown, who was still lost in his thoughts. Everything Knock Out needed was right beside him.

“You know what attracted me to you, when I saw you for the first time?” Breakdown spoke.

Knock Out laughed, an arrogant smirk on his faceplate. “You mean what specifically about my good looks?”

Breakdown rolled over, laying sideways, propping his helm up with this servo. “Your confidence,” he said.

Knock Out shrugged, displeased the answer hadn’t been about his beauty. “Don’t be humble or anything,” he retorted.

“I knew it the moment I saw you that you were something special,” Breakdown said. 

Knock Out arched his brow skeptically. “You believe in love at first sight?” he asked.

Breakdown’s chuckle was a low rumble, a sound melted Knock Out’s spark. “I believe I fell in love with you when I saw your hot aft walk in that door.”

Now _this_ delighted Knock Out. “Don’t get too cocky,” he teased. “I wasn’t out to lay with just any mech that night,” he said.

Breakdown’s laugh was loud, it echoed through the field. “Me being cocky, that’s rich! Now what about me? What was the first thing you saw in me that drew you to me?”

Knock Out lifted his chin as he thought on this. His frame, of course. There had been mechs of all kind in the room, he flirted with them, interfaced with some, but each night he returned, his optics were always curiously drawn to Breakdown. But it hadn’t just been Breakdown’s large and firmly built frame. 

“Your optics,” Knock Out said finally. Out in the field, alone in the dark, the only light came from the stars, moon and Breakdown’s beautiful yellow optics. “They were different,” he said thoughtfully. “I find solace in your optics, my love.”

Breakdown smiled, then leaned in for a kiss. 

He was such a romantic, Knock Out thought. But he wouldn’t have him any other way. Everything about Breakdown was a compliment to Knock Out. Together, they were complete. 

“Let’s hide here forever,” he whispered, their mouthplates hardly a width apart.

“You and me, Knock Out,” Breakdown returned. “I’ll follow you wherever you go. You’re more beautiful than all the stars in the sky.”

Knock Out felt his engine purr at the compliment, even if it was a little corny.

They kissed more and, excitement taking hold, Knock Out pushed Breakdown into the grass and leaned over him, his claws kneading into his arms as their passion mounted.

That was when the sky opened up and rain poured out from above. 

They fled the field and were back on the road. Knock Out used his windshield wipers to no avail. After a few miles of driving with no other cars coming or going, they found an overpass to hide underneath.

Knock Out laughed, transforming. “Earth weather is so unpredictable! It changes all the time with their short passing days and nights.”

Breakdown shook himself, spraying water everywhere. “Over half their planet is covered in water, I’m surprised they don’t have water cities!”

“If they did, that’d leave more road for us,” Knock Out joked. He continued to brush water off of himself.

He hadn’t realised Breakdown was watching him. “I like how you look when you’re covered in water,” his vocaliser was soft. “You kinda sparkle, it’s pretty.”

Knock Out laughed again, leaning against the cement wall. “Go on,” he purred.

Breakdown stood in front of him, his servo sliding around onto Knock Out’s aft, pulling him closer. Knock Out enjoyed his lover’s greedy touch, and he grinned up at him before Breakdown bent over to kiss him. His kiss was cold and it flushed Knock Out, filling him with lust. He couldn’t allow Breakdown to have all the control, so Knock Out kissed more, grabbing Breakdown behind his pipes in a fierce hold. His claws sharpened their hold.

“I love it when you take charge,” Breakdown whispered, allowing Knock Out to run his claws down his back, making him shiver. 

They interfaced under the overpass, the thick shower of rain shielding them from the rest of the world. Breakdown had Knock Out pressed against the cement wall, making him feel so good that his claws sliced into the cement leaving permanent marks.

Knock Out breathed heavily, the venting air from his mouthplate warm, exuding in visible puffs of air and even though they were alone, Knock Out and Breakdown both fought to keep quiet. 

They didn’t stop to rest after their shared overload, instead, they hit the road again until tiredness overcame them and they pulled off to the side of the road for the night, underneath the trees.

Now in the morning, Knock Out rolled forwards through the trees. He could see humans in their cars driving along the road. He reversed, again shielded by the forest.

Parked next to Breakdown, Knock Out contemplated returning to power down when he received a call. 

“Is this the Medic known as Knock Out?” the voice asked.

Knock Out transformed and stalked deeper into the forest, leaving Breakdown to continue slumbering. 

“Perhaps,” Knock Out answered, “Who do I owe the pleasure to?”

“Lord Starscream, current leader of the Decepticons.”

That smirk slipped right off Knock Out’s faceplate.

“We’re in need of a medic,” Starscream continued. “I heard of your… _reputation_ with patients. I have clearance for you and… you have an assistant, do you not?”

Knock Out was still adjusting to the ‘current leader of the Decepticons’ part.

“Yes! Yes, I have an assistant, Breakdown,” Knock Out blurted a little belatedly.

“Then I will give him clearance as well to come aboard the Nemesis-”

 _The Nemesis!_ The Decepticon warship! Knock Out had to lean against one of the trees for support. 

“Hold on a klick,” Knock Out interrupted blindly. “What do you mean of my _reputation?_ ”

There was a pause on the other end.

“Our leader… _Lord_ Megatron, is in need of a medical assist. And, I, Starscream, as _second in command_ , have carefully chosen you for reputation with… medical miracles. Understood?”

Knock Out understood perfectly. But he wasn’t quite comfortable in becoming entangled in this political drama. 

Before he could even attempt a protest, Starscream said, “I will provide you with secure co-ordinates for where you can meet some vehicons who will escort you to one of our energon deposits where I will provide you with a groundbridge. Do not waste any time, there are Autobots on that stinking planet, we can’t be too careful.”

The call ended. 

It had been just last night that he and Breakdown had been celebrating their freedom here on planet Earth. They were supposed to live here together for millions of more years, hidden from the rest of the universe. Not only was Starscream hailing him, but supposedly there were Autobots here as well!

He felt defeated. They were never allowed to just live their lives!

“There you are, babe,” Breakdown pushed back some trees. “I thought you might have hit the road.” He faltered. “You got something on your mind?”

“We’ve got a job,” Knock Out said, his arms crossed. “And you’ll never guess who from.”

“A job?” Breakdown repeated. It was obvious he shared Knock Out’s disappointment. “Maybe it’ll be a quick one.”

Knock Out’s smirk was sarcastic. “ _Lord_ Starscream himself wants us aboard the Nemesis tout suite.”

“Isn’t that the Decepticon ship? The big one?” Breakdown asked.

Knock Out nodded, inspecting the sharpness of his claws. “It seems we have no say in the matter.” 

Breakdown nodded. “We’ll make the best of it,” he said. “Maybe this could be good for us. If Starscream is relying on you, maybe we’ll be safer than we think.”

His optimism was swaying Knock Out’s mood. “You think?”

“We could use it to our advantage, I know you!” Breakdown’s grin was so handsome. “I’ve seen you work other bots and outsmart them. If Starscream’s in charge or second to in charge, maybe you can work your way to being his second in charge. You’re so clever, babe.”

Knock Out looked up at Breakdown with a devilish smile. “Keep talking,” he encouraged.

Breakdown stood in front of him, blocking his path. “So how much time did he give you?” he rested both his servos on either one of Knock Out’s arms. “Maybe we’ve got some time to hit up a sequel to last night’s party under the bridge.” 

Breakdown was always so good at soothing him, whatever the situation. What would Knock Out do without him? If Knock Out was forced into recruitment on the _Nemesis_ , at least he would have Breakdown with him. 

Before Knock Out leaned in to kiss his mate, he said through a sigh, “There’s no way I could do this without you.”

Looking into Breakdown’s beautiful optics was all the support Knock Out needed. Everything he could ever need supplied right there within that everlasting yellow.

“Remember what I said last night?” Breakdown whispered, leaning ever closer. “I’ll follow you anywhere you go.”

Knock Out kept his own optics open just a sliver to watch his sparkmate kiss him. 

Although he hadn’t heard the sound in ages, they both perked at the distinct sound of a groundbridge opening. Exchanging curious glances, they realised they were on the edge of a forest overlooking an excavation dig site. The groundbridge was down below.

A bot was stepping through the groundbridge.

It was Bulkhead. 

Knock Out could feel the tension in Breakdown immediately. Not just in his struts, but in his lover’s own spark. Knock Out would be lying if he said he felt nothing. His feelings, he surmised, were a lot less complicated. 

Hatred. Nothing but hatred for this mech that once had the gall to call his sparkmate a friend- only then to trick him into his own death trap. Bulkhead might have thought saving Knock Out’s life was enough to save his guilt, but Knock Out felt differently. There was still a debt to be payed for so cruelly betraying his once ‘best friend’. 

But a loud voice echoed from down below, distracting him from his thoughts. It was high pitched, like a femme, but no matter how Knock Out scanned below, he saw no femme.

“He has a pet,” Breakdown spoke. 

There, he saw it, a small human female. Knock Out’s gasp was sharp. He glanced at Breakdown and saw him tightening his servos into fists. 

“How dare he,” Breakdown snarled. “Having a pet when he told us to give up Smokescreen, turned us in. Maybe he’ll finally know how it felt if I take her from him, just like he did to us.”

Knock Out had no objections.

“Then I’ll leave you to wrap up here, shall I?” Knock Out stood, retreating back into the woods. “I’ll go see what ‘ _Lord_ ’ Starscream needs of us. When I return, I hope to see this fool’s energon trailed all over this pit and his little pet a colourful stain in the dirt.”

Breakdown’s entire attention was still focused straight onto Bulkhead. Knock Out could just feel the hatred emanating from his spark. Knock Out let out a sigh. He told Breakdown the co-ordinates Starscream had supplied him for when he was done scouting Bulkhead. 

On the road, Knock Out couldn’t free his processor of his thoughts. 

Everything was already rolling into action, Knock Out could feel it all around him. The call to the _Nemesis_ , something about Megatron needing a medic, and now, the Autobots were present on Earth. He couldn’t ignore the war any longer.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way, it was supposed to be _their_ planet. _Their_ hidden escape. But now, Knock Out and Breakdown both were yanked out of their private world for two and right into the forefront of the Autobot and Decepticon war. 

It was alright, Knock Out assured himself. He had this. Determination fuelled his speed. As long as he had Breakdown, he could handle anything this war had in store for him.


	17. Still Thirsty |&| One Black Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The surprises keep coming for Arcee as she struggles to keep up with everything happening around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashback added!

“What a jerk...” Jack muttered under his breath as soon as the spacebridge closed. “I can’t believe Knock Out’s just going to leave like that!”

Arcee stood flabbergasted. Had the entire world just turned on its helm!? But Knock Out walking out on Breakdown wasn’t even the first on her list because-

_Breakdown wasn’t an energon vampire anymore!!_

The last Arcee had seen Breakdown, he had a long vampiric cord slithering out of the middle of his peeled open face and was slurping up energon in a morbidly savage frenzy. 

Scrutinising him up and down, Arcee noticed how weak in the struts he appeared. Was it from Knock Out’s decision? Or because he might transform into a terrorcon at any moment? 

“Are you alright, Breakdown?” It was June who spoke first.

Breakdown crossed the room, his back to Arcee and the spacebridge. Cautiously, she shifted herself to better see Breakdown’s faceplate- was he going to transform and attack? But no. Faceplate blank, he stared silently at his sparkling in the stasis canister on the table. 

June approached the canister. “It’s pretty,” she said, “I never would have thought giant robots would have started out as little balls of light. The things you learn, right?” she looked up at Breakdown for a response, but he offered none.

“You have every right to keep it,” she said, suddenly stern. “You don’t have to chose between this and Knock Out.”

Breakdown’s optics shuttered when June spoke of Knock Out. “Huh, what do you know?” Breakdown scoffed, and Arcee saw him clench his fists. “He’s probably waiting for me on the other side of that spacebridge.”

June crossed her arms. “I know that wasn’t a conversation,” she insisted. “He just thrust an ultimatum in your lap without even discussing how _you_ feel. That’s hardly fair is it? It’s certainly not how you handle something this important.” 

Breakdown just shook his helm.

“He’s just saying this stuff because he’s been brainwashed by Autobots,” he said.

“Don’t lie to yourself,” June was quick to counter. “It’s because he’s scared of that,” and she gestured at the sparkling lightly bouncing up and down in its canister. “And smart decisions aren’t made off of fear. His concerns are just as valid as yours, but you need to sit down and have a real conversation. One where he actually listens to you.”

“Mom’s right,” Jack added, “You deserve better.”

Breakdown looked startled by the humans’ advice but he considered it honestly, and slowly, he started to nod.

“Why don’t…” Arcee spoke up while quickly forming a plan. “Why don’t you head back to your ship, and I’ll get Knock Out?” 

This whole sparkling debacle was the least of Arcee’s concern. She had no idea if Breakdown would transform into a terrorcon again. All Arcee knew was if he did, she had to get him to a place where he couldn’t hurt others. 

“No,” Breakdown said, jarring her thoughts. He grabbed the handle of the sparkling stasis canister. “I’m going to go find him. I’m not going to sit around and wait.” He faced June. “I gotta speak my mind. Fire up that spacebridge!”

Raf, who had been sitting by the spacebridge console, looked to Breakdown to Ratchet to Arcee for a reaffirmation. 

Ratchet threw a frustrated servo up in the air. “Whatever gets the sparkling out of my life.”

Arcee had no time to address Ratchet’s attitude. 

“Okay,” Arcee said, trying to conceal her caution. At least it would get Breakdown away from the humans. Maybe she could persuade him to wait in his suite for Knock Out? But was an energon-less sparkling in danger from a terrorcon? She grimaced.

“Hey,” Breakdown said, calling out to June. He hesitated before saying, “Thanks for the, uh, the pep-talk.”

June nodded, smiling. “You got this. Just be honest.”

Arcee let out a silent vent of air as she passed through the spacebridge with Breakdown and his sparkling. 

“We can try checking his suite,” Arcee suggested. She’d convince him to stay there if Knock Out wasn’t there.

Breakdown started forwards and Arcee followed, every strut in her body ready to spring into action if need be. But nothing happened as they stalked the _Nemesis’_ vast hallways. 

“I can’t believe Cybertron’s back,” Breakdown spoke, breaking the silence. Was he actually starting the small talk? She was astounded. “I never expected to see the planet restored. Come to think of it, I shouldn’t even be here right now, should I?”

Arcee felt her dentae clench in reaction. 

“If Airachnid hadn’t stored your spark in the Shadowzone, you wouldn’t be here today,” she said.

“I feel like a ghost,” he said, exuding a heavy vent of air. “Everything’s changed.” He lifted the sparkling canister into his arms, looking down at it. “I don’t know where I belong.”

Arcee held her glossa and watched as his yellow optics reflected off the glass canister, the yellow sparkling inside glowing back at him. 

“Bet you lost some bots in the war, right?” Breakdown said.

“Of course,” Arcee replied. She folded her arms, her frame becoming rigid. 

In Breakdown’s silent nodding, she realised he understood what she was really saying. 

“Nobot wants me here,” he said. “I get it. Autobots won, ‘Cons lost. Seeing a dead ‘Con walking instead of their dead friends is an insult. You all hate me. I just don’t get why Knock Out would rather stay and be an Autobot now that I’m back. Before we were called to the _Nemesis_ , we stuck together. But since then, we both made mistakes, and now, I just don’t know what’s going on. It’s like he’s choosing Autobots over… us.”

She couldn’t look at him, it was too much for her. Couldn’t he have saved this retrospection for when June was around? She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

“Don’t feed me some fake scrap,” he said, looking down at her. “If I had it my way, Knock Out and I would be out of your crosshairs.”

“I lost someone I loved. All I have of him is what’s in here.” Arcee tapped her helm. “I’m just trying to cope as best I can.”

Breakdown stared at her. Yes, she could see it, he understood. 

It was within that momentarily silence between them that her audials picked up on a faint sound. Exchanging looks with one another, Arcee and Breakdown followed the sound. As they neared, Arcee realised it sounded like Knock Out’s voice, but then she thought she heard Breakdown’s as well. The source of the sounds was a suite, and when they approached, the doors opened automatically for them.

“Smokescreen…?” Arcee was surprised to see him slumped on the suite’s main bench in front of the monitor. “What are you doing in here?”

Arms folded, Smokescreen was watching a video, the source of the voices they had heard. It was a video from pre-war Cybertron, easily dated by the wings on Knock Out’s back. 

_“You gotta lift him higher than that!”_ the Breakdown in the video said. He must have been the one holding the camera. It shook in his hold as he focused on Knock Out, who lifted a newspark Smokescreen onto the back of his shoulders. It looked like they were at a racing arena.

Knock Out laughed joyfully in reply, steadying Smokescreen on his shoulders.

“Did you watch them all?” Arcee asked, keeping her vocaliser cautiously quiet.

“Yeah,” Smokescreen replied, a dull lilt to his voice. “A few times now.”

Arcee glanced over her shoulder plating, spying Breakdown lingering by the door unnoticed by Smokescreen.

“You don’t remember any of this, do you?” she asked Smokescreen.

On the video, Breakdown angled the camera to show the three of them.

“That’s just it, Arcee,” he replied. “I do remember this. Not all of it, but pieces of it. Not really what happened, but the _feelings_. I remember… the happiness. We were always happy.” He paused the video and pointed at the screen, at Breakdown’s image. “Yellow optics…” then he pointed straight at Knock Out. “And red.”

Arcee stared at the freeze frame of the two mechs. “I thought you knew who your sires were? The Autobot heroes? And the femme?”

Smokescreen finally shut his optics. “There was a femme, but I knew she couldn’t be my sire. She was never in my life long enough to be.” He paused, his shoulder playing slumping. “It’s not fair, y’know? Bumblebee’s the hero. His sires are Optimus Prime and Elita One and mine… just a couple of ‘cons.”

Arcee pursed her mouthplate, very aware of Breakdown listening behind her.

“‘Cons who care about you,” she said, pointing at the video for emphasis. “You said it yourself, you remember all three of you being happy. Bumblebee never had that. You’d trade that, for Autobot hero sires who never raised you? Never held you?”

Smokescreen stared at the screen. 

“Why would Bulkhead turn them in, if they weren’t bad?” Smokescreen asked, melancholy. “Bulkhead’s my _best friend_. I thought I _knew_ him. But if they were innocent then why would Bulkhead try and kill _him_ ,” and he gestured feebly at Breakdown’s image on the screen.

Arcee opened her mouthplate to speak when-

“Because I killed a buncha bots.” Breakdown had revealed himself in the doorway.

Smokescreen jumped in his seat, but instantly settled. Like he had known but hadn’t known. Breakdown made no move to enter the room.

“Killed some bots, set off some bombs and convinced a bunch of the Wreckers to join the ‘cons,” Breakdown continued. 

Smokescreen tensed. 

“I thought I was doing the right thing.” Breakdown did not break Smokescreen’s gaze. “We were fighting oppression. Wasn’t even allowed to own a newspark, the police had to beat me up and steal you away from our servos.”

“I know.”

Both Arcee and Breakdown jolted, exchanging looks of disbelief with one another.

Somehow, Smokescreen appeared to scrunch up, making himself smaller. He stared at the floor.

“I remember that night. Not everything, but I remember being scared. Bots, real big ones came into our home and made me scared.” Smokescreen closed his optics again, as if searching his memory banks for the memory. “They beat up my sires, they tried to take me away from them, forever. My sires fought hard to keep me, I remember crying and…” Smokescreen opened his optics and stood up, facing Breakdown. “I remember what you said to me.”

Breakdown chassis heaved with a vent of air. “I never forgot what I said.”

Smokescreen closed his optics. “You said, ‘Never run when you can fight but remember _things happen for a reason_. You gotta let your destiny define you.” He opened his optics. Suddenly, Smokescreen’s whole ‘destiny’ thing back when they were hunting for the omega keys made a lot more sense to Arcee.

“I guess that’s why I thought my sires were Autobot heroes.” Smokescreen whispered, “It was those words I thought about when I did what I did.”

“What’s that?” Arcee asked.

“When I turned back from the groundbridge and used the phase shifter to save Optimus Prime when the Decepticons blew up our Nevada base.”

Arcee’s optics widened and Breakdown took an uneasy step forwards.

“You saved Optimus Prime?” he was incredulous.

“It was happening all over again,” Smokescreen explained, a slight crack in his vocaliser. “But back then, when it happened when I was a newspark, I was powerless. But now, now I could _do_ something about it!” and he took a forceful conviction. “I mean, I _tried_ , I thought I could do it for Alpha Trion, when the ‘cons broke into the Hall of Records.” He shook his helm. “I failed again. But I wasn’t going to let it happen for a third time, so instead of going to the co-ordinates set for me, I turned around and saved Optimus.”

“Smokescreen,” Arcee said, a servo covering her mouthplate. “If you hadn’t done that, Optimus would have died that day. We may never have won the war.”

Bizarrely, this statement had little impact on Smokescreen. 

“I always hoped that my sires would have been proud of me. Maybe I couldn’t have helped them back then when the bots tore us apart, but I could prevent it from happening again,” he said.

“But then you found out we were ‘cons,” Breakdown said.

Smokescreen shrugged. “I always tried to rationalise my sire’s red optics. Took me a long time to accept that pretty much red optics means you’re a ’con. I guess I always knew.”

“I don’t expect you to understand why we chose and did what we did in the war,” Breakdown said without averting his gaze. “I stand by some choices, and regret some.”

“Do you really want to be an Autobot?” Smokescreen countered. Arcee noticed almost desperation in his tone.

She watched Breakdown carefully. She _knew_ he didn’t want to be one, but would he tell Smokescreen that?

“It’s not easy working with bots that want me dead,” Breakdown replied, sounding tired. 

Smokescreen furrowed his brows. “Autobots are the _good_ guys, don’t you want to be one of us?”

“Then I hope you never meet some of the Autobots I ran into during the war,” Breakdown said, there was no ire in his voice.

“Like Bulkhead?” Smokescreen prodded. “Like Wheeljack?”

“You think they were right to try and kill me?” Breakdown posed.

Smokescreen did not reply, but, restless, the doors on his back fidgeted. 

“I trusted them too,” Breakdown said. “I joined the Wreckers because of Wheeljack and I invited Bulkhead to come with. I once called Bulkhead _my_ best friend.” Arcee didn’t expect Breakdown to stop talking at that point, nor did she expect the look she received from him through the silence. Finally, he said, “they shouldn’t have tried to do me in like they did, but I shouldn’t have set off a bomb to impress bots I thought were fighting for a just cause. Funny thing is, when I look at that, I don’t see bots and ‘cons anymore, just a lot of bad decisions by all of us.”

It was then Arcee realised Breakdown was starting to get it. What she had said earlier, during their walk in the forest to his ship. How maybe, possibly, Bulkhead was trying to make amends for what he had done to Breakdown in the past. Instead of convincing Smokescreen that Bulkhead was a terrible bot, he was painting a picture that Bulkhead was no better than him, and vice versa. 

“If you can trust Bulkhead, then I’d like to hope that you’d be able to trust me too,” Breakdown was insistent. 

The two mechs stared at each other from across the room. 

“I’m not expecting an answer,” Breakdown continued. “You don’t have to say anything, I just want a chance. That’s all. Hey, um, Arcee-” she startled at the mention of her name. “Let’s find Knock Out, huh?”

She felt compelled to say something to Smokescreen, but Breakdown was right. If Smokescreen couldn’t get past his emotions now, it would take time. So she turned her back and followed Breakdown.

But Smokescreen called out behind them, “Is that a sparkling in there?” 

Breakdown lifted the stasis canister so Smokescreen could clearly see it was.

“Last I saw, Knock Out was called to the Waves Estate when _they_ arrived,” Smokescreen said. “Wasn’t a fan, so I came back here.”

Arcee and Breakdown swapped bewildered looks. 

“‘They’?” she asked. 

Arcee and Breakdown took the groundbridge to travel faster, Smokescreen trailing behind them and when Arcee approached the crowd, she was in disbelief the moment she saw ‘them’.

Everybot was there, Knock Out, Bumblebee, Bulkhead, Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack. 

“No deal, Starscream,” Bumblebee said. 

And Starscream wasn’t alone either. Skyfire was with him. Arcee had hoped Skyfire would return, but not with the ex-Decepticon second-in-command.

“We’re not asking for much,” Starscream announced to the group. Already, Arcee cringed at his sickeningly sweet vocaliser, so mingled with faux empathy.

“Ah! Arcee!” he exclaimed as soon as he noticed her approach. “Skyfire,” and he gestured broadly at his partner, “mentioned he had spoken with you before he came and found me. That it is because of _your_ doing that he is free of the Shadowzone!”

“What!?” she heard a chorus of shock and confusion ripple through the crowd.

“What’s he talking about, Arcee?” Bumblebee asked.

But before she could respond, Starscream interjected. “After all, she is an _old friend_ of ours, back when we were but mere scientists studying for the greater good of the planet! Isn’t that right, Arcee?”

“Starscream, you of all bots should know that I’m the least likely to help you with whatever your scheme is,” she threatened. She swallowed hard, keeping down the rage that rose from recalling that she was looking at Cliffjumper’s murderer. Only Skyfire’s presence kept her from slitting Starscream’s throat.

“I saved your life!” Starscream spat, “From Airachnid!”

Arcee folded her arms. “You said it was debt repaid. We’re even.”

“Arcee.” Skyfire spoke up. “I know Starscream is responsible for much, but, if only we could be heard out-”

“We ask for so little!” Starscream added with poor acting.

“A clean record of everything you’ve done in the war _and_ a home on Cybertron?! That’ll never happen!” Bulkhead snapped. Arcee felt Breakdown shift uneasily next to her at his rival’s outburst. 

“The only bot who’s done worse than you is Megatron,” Wheeljack added. “As far as we’re concerned, you’re Cybertron’s most wanted.”

The wings on Starscream’s back twittered uneasily as he scanned the crowd for any kind of sympathy. 

“Yet you’ve all accepted _him_ into your fold!” he wailed, thrusting a long sharp digit at Knock Out. “Have you seen his records!? He’s quite the mad doctor.”

“You’re one to talk,” Knock Out retorted, servos on hips. “You killed her boyfriend,” and he jabbed a digit towards Arcee.

A moment passed where they just glared in what Arcee assumed could only be utter hatred at one another. 

“Breakdown!” Starscream practically hopped back in shock when he noticed Breakdown for the first time. “I thought you were _dead_! Last I saw you, you were a living dea-”

“ _Breakdown,_ ” Knock Out interrupted, “Is also an Autobot now.” 

“ _He’s_ one of the redeemed too?!” Starscream shot an odd glare at Knock Out. “Truly, your scientific talents are beyond your reputation.” It sounded like a threat. 

But when Knock Out said nothing, the two just glared again. 

“It’s practically a Decepticon rehabilitation you’re running, Bumblebee.” Unimpressed, Starscream redirected his attention to the Autobot leader. “Surely you have room for one more, we’re hardly asking for a room and board in your little… crew.” 

“I don’t think you get it.” Bumblebee crossed his arms, defiant. “You’re under arrest.” 

Starscream started to splutter but Skyfire stepped forward, placing a giant servo on Starscream’s shoulder plating to calm him. 

“Bumblebee, please,” he began diplomatically, “Starscream and I would at least like a fair audience with you, perhaps one-on-one where we could discuss the proposal and work something out that we both consider fair.” 

“I hear you,” Bumblebee said, looking way, way up to meet Skyfire in the optics. “But right now, Starscream is, no joke, Cybertron’s most wanted and I’m going to be placing him under arrest. I’d be happy to have a conversation with you after.” 

Skyfire looked defeated, but clearly even he thought Bumblebee was being fair and could argue no further. He gave his sparkmate a despondent look. 

But Starscream was still seething with rage. Arcee knew that look well, and the target of his fury was Knock Out. 

“Oh, I bet you’re loving this,” Starscream sneered at him. “You can wipe that cocky smirk off your faceplate.” 

Knock Out raised a brow ridge. “I told you to never return.” 

Starscream let out a low chuckle. “Yes, but did you tell _him_ everything?” and he pointed a long, sharp digit at Breakdown. 

Everyone glanced at Breakdown, who looked confused. 

Knock Out’s brow ridges rose significantly. 

“Judging by the look on your faceplate, I’d say no.” A wicked smile spread across Starscream’s faceplate. >

Unsure of what they spoke, Arcee watched both mechs carefully as Knock Out’s optics darted between Starscream and Skyfire. 

“Be mindful of those present.” Knock Out’s vocaliser carried a dangerous edge. 

But Starscream laughed, “Skyfire has been missing and presumed dead for millions of years. Breakdown, on the other servo… Tell me, is that a _sparkling_ you’re carrying it that canister?” 

Everybot turned to stare at the canister. Breakdown offered no response, unwilling to fall for the bait. 

“Did it come from the Well?” Starscream prodded. His tone said he very well knew it did not come from the Well. Starscream was always clever, after all, Arcee thought. 

“Bumblebee,” Knock Out said, raising his vocaliser. “Can you escort Starscream to our lovely prisons?” 

Starscream tensed, stepping away from Bumblebee. At first, Arcee thought he was going to flee. 

“Before you do,” he sneered, “Do I get any slack for fragging your current medic?” and he pointed straight at Knock Out. 

“ _WHAT?_ ” Breakdown pushed through the crowd to confront Starscream. Instantly, Skyfire was at Starscream’s side, ready to defend him. 

“Oh, didn’t your _sparkmate_ tell you?” Starscream sneered. “I had him on the floor of your suite positively _begging_ me to continue!” 

“You _lied_ to me?” Breakdown rounded on Knock Out. 

His white faceplate coloured with embarrassment, Knock Out raised his servos in defense. “I- I didn’t-” 

“Don’t go too hard on him,” Starscream laughed again. “After all, he did moan _your_ name the whole time!” 

Breakdown’s fists clenched and his chassis rose. “You told me you didn’t-” 

“I thought you were dead!” Knock Out cried. “You’d been dead for orns!” 

“I _asked_ you,” Breakdown shouted. “Ever since you joined up with these Autobots you’ve been lying to me-” 

Starscream tsked in disapproval. “Yes, Knock Out. A little honesty does go a long way!” 

Knock Out whipped around to face him. “Why, you little-” 

“That’s not what you said!” Starscream laughed. 

Knock Out’s optics flared open and, too fast for anybot to realise, he launched himself at Starscream. 

“Knock Out!” Bumblebee, Breakdown and Arcee both cried out. Only Skyfire shouted Starscream’s name. 

The two mechs tumbled onto the tiles of the Waves Estate flooring, furiously scratching and clawing while screaming swears at one another. 

Bumblebee, Breakdown with the stasis canister, Arcee and Skyfire all chased after Knock Out and Starscream but just before they could reach the fighting pair, Knock Out reared back, ready to swipe at Starscream’s faceplate. Starscream dodged back, and in doing so, stumbled backwards and… right off the edge of a massive crater in the floor, a remnant of the pre-war bombings. He pulled Knock Out down with him as the pair tumbled down the sloping hole. 

“Knock Out!” Arcee cried again, racing to the edge. She could only watch in horror as they fought with one another during the slide. 

“Wait here,” she told Breakdown and Bumblebee, “I’ll get Knock Out!” She started to skid down the rubble when Skyfire passed her. 

Letting the momentum of the slide carry her down, Arcee surfed down the embankment in a hurry to catch up with Skyfire. Surely he wouldn’t hurt Knock Out, right? Breakdown, however, seemed ready to tear Starscream in two which was why Arcee purposely left Breakdown with the others. 

“I’ll claw your optics out!” Arcee heard Knock Out bellow from below. 

“You’re pathetic!” Starscream screeched while being yanked off of Knock Out by Skyfire. “I knew you were fragging your assistant but _sparkmates?_ I never would have thought you to be so pathetically sentimental!” 

“You’re one to talk!” Knock Out struggled to push himself off the ground, but he slid on the loose ground and landed back down on his aft. “This whole time you had a sparkmate as well! Did Megatron know!?” 

“Megatron was the one to lock me in the Shadowzone when he found out,” Skyfire said, holding Starscream above the ground like a naughty newspark. “But that is not of relevance right now.” 

He looked up to see Arcee approaching. She bent to help Knock Out back to his pedes, but, frustrated, he pushed her servos away and helped himself up. 

“How dare you mention that embarrassing lapse of judgement,” Knock Out snarled. “Breakdown was presumed _dead_ and you knew I regretted every moment!” 

Starscream laughed coldly. “You were just as hard as I was.” <

“Whoah! Okay, look, nobot here wants to hear about your decisions,” Arcee spoke quickly before he could ellaborate. “Can we just agree to never bring this up again. I mean, do you really think that having a night-” 

“A breem,” Knock Out said with an indignant huff. 

Arcee’s optics widened with unease. “-With a bot on our team is going to get Bumblebee to grant you the immunity you want?” 

“Arcee is right,” Skyfire said, stern. He placed Starscream back on the ground. “We need to approach this rationally, not emotionally.” 

“I don’t see why _he_ gets a free pass and I don’t,” Starscream spat. “Him and his glitch.” 

“Starscream, you’re a murderer,” Arcee stated. “You were second-in-command of the Decepticons-” 

“I lead them too!” Starscream interrupted, proud. 

“Exactly!” Arcee threw her arms in the air, exasperated. “Skyfire, you can’t actually think we would ever clear his record? Allow somebot as dangerous as Starscream to roam Cybertron freely? He’ll probably start a second war once Cybertron’s restorted!” She let out a frustrated vent of air. “Skyfire, I know you missed the whole war, but we all chose sides. Starscream made his decision.” 

“Megatron blackmailed me into joining the Decepticons,” Starscream growled. 

There was a pause of silence. Arcee fought hard to keep her rage at bay. 

“I think you’re a little beyond using the past for sympathy, don’t you think?,” she said, voice deadly soft. 

Starscream narrowed his optics at Knock Out. “You better hope I never find out who your sparkling is. Because I’ll make sure they _never_ forget my name.” 

“ARCEE!” 

All four bots jumped in shock at the shout from above. It was Bumblebee. She could make out his silhouette at the top of the slope against the setting sun. 

“We need a medic!” Then as Bumblebee spoke the last sentence, Arcee’s internals gave out inside her. “ _Something’s wrong with Breakdown!_ ” 

Instantly, Knock Out started climbing his way back up the crater. “What’s wrong!?” he shouted, panicked. “What’s going on?!” 

But Arcee was lithely shot her way back up the rubble, terror fueling her speed. 

“ _GET AWAY FROM HIM!_ ” she screamed to her friends above. “ _GET AWAY!_ ” 

Every electrode in her frame was at a heightened state of panic. She should have said something! She should have locked Breakdown up in one of the spare Hangers right away! 

As soon as she reached the top, her worst fear was confirmed. Breakdown was hunched on the ground, his back heaving as he struggled with the transformation occurring within him. 

Bumblebee wheeled around when Arcee screamed, “What are y-” 

“ _Smokescreen, grab the sparkling!!_ ” 

Without protest, Smokescreen reached forward for the canister, grabbed hold and… 

The vampiric cord shot out! 

“AHH!” Smokescreen wailed and stumbled backwards over himself, he fell to the ground, cradling the sparkling in the stasis canister in his arms 

On his pedes, Breakdown now stood like a marionette, hunched and rickety. The vampiric cord retracted as he turned around. His optics were no longer yellow. Breakdown was completely gone. He shuttered his empty purple optics, gazing out at the feast surrounding him. 

“ _Thiiirrsstyyy…_ ” Breakdown’s gravelly vocaliser echoed through the grand hall. “ _Thiirrrsssttyyy!!_ " 

“What the _frag!?_ ” Wheeljack swore as all the bots that had been crowded around Breakdown now began to back up. 

Arcee’s sparkpulse quickened, next to her, Knock Out climbed out of the pit and gasped. 

“It can’t be!” he exclaimed. 

Behind him, Starscream and Skyfire had flown out of the pit in their alt-modes, transforming back into bots, they landed next to Knock Out. 

“WHAT” Starscream’s cry was shrill. “ _You idiot!_ ” He grabbed Knock Out by his shoulder plating and shook him. “You revived him as a _terrorcon!?_ He’ll suck all of our energon dry!” 

Instantly, he transformed into his jet mode once again and flew into the sky to avoid attack. 

“Is this the bot whose spark you found in the Shadowzone?” Skyfire asked, bewildered. 

But Arcee didn’t have the time to explain. “Don’t let him attack you!” she ordered to everybot. Swiftly, she transformed her weapons out, as she did, everybot did as well. 

“Wait!” Knock Out ran into the middle of the fray, his arms up. “You can’t kill him!” 

“Knock Out, get out of the way!” Bumblebee shouted, his weapons aimed at Breakdown. 

But Knock Out didn’t move. 

“ _That’s an order,_ ” Bumblebee repeated, stern 

Still, Knock Out hesitated, his arms thrown in the air as if they would block any shots directed at Breakdown. 

“No,” he announced, “You can’t kill him! Not after all I’ve been through to get him back!” 

“ _Behind you!_ ” Smokescreen was the first to shout. 

Arcee’s optics widened in horror as Breakdown the energon vampire lunged at Knock Out. Before anybot could react and right as the vampiric cord was about to latch onto him, Breakdown was smacked out of the way by Bulkhead and his transformed fist weapons. 

Knock Out stumbled to the ground, shocked at the giant brawling bots above him. 

“There’s nothing you can do!” Bulkhead said through grunts as he struck Breakdown again in an attempt to steer him away from the crowd. 

Knock Out was utterly devastated and Arcee gave him a pained look. Even though she felt for him, Bulkhead was right. Just _one bite_ from Breakdown would infect another bot! She started shooting at the ground at Breakdown’s pedes to aid Bulkhead in herding him back. 

But in a sudden outburst, Breakdown roared, reared back and ploughed into Bulkhead, sending him flying into Wheeljack. 

“This isn’t working!” Ultra Magnus shouted, shooting at Breakdown with his one good servo. “We have to take him out!” 

“No!” Knock Out rushed to his pedes. “I can fix him!” 

“He’s not a bot anymore, Knock Out,” Ultra Magnus replied. 

That’s when everybot started shooting at Breakdown. All except for Arcee, Smokescreen and Skyfire, the three of them watching in horror. 

“Stop!” Knock Out cried as loud as he could to be heard over the sounds of the blasters. “He’s still in there!” 

It was almost too much to watch, even for her. As everybot shot at Breakdown, it inevitably overpowered him. It didn’t take long. Breakdown collapsed to the ground unconscious, energon seeping from his wounds. 

“Is he…” Ultra Magnus asked. 

“One way to make sure,” Wheeljack said and he drew out his twin swords, approaching Breakdown. 

Arcee saw Smokescreen clutching the sparkling stasis container to his chassis. His optics wide, his door wing trembled. 

“You can’t,” he whimpered, "This isn't how the story is supposed to end.” 

“Sorry, kid,” Wheeljack said and he lifted his arms to cut down on Breakdown’s pipes. “But this guy is already dead.” 

“ _Please,_ ” Knock Out pelted forwards next to Breakdown and fell to his knee joints, pleading. “ _Please, don’t kill him again._ ” 

Arcee recalled what Breakdown had told her. How Wheeljack had lured him into a trap and set off bombs in an attempt to kill Breakdown. How Bulkhead had been on it too. Breakdown should have died, but somehow, he had survived and here Wheeljack was again with him, but with a far better reason to finish him off. 

He and Knock Out stared at each other and Knock Out’s desperation was all over his faceplate. 

With a swift motion, Wheeljack rose his swords above his head and slammed them down with a _thunk!_

Arcee cringed, unable to look. 

Venting heavily, she waited for Knock Out’s reaction, but none came. Daring to look, Arcee opened a single optic. 

Wheeljack’s swords stuck out of the crowd, forming a criss-cross above Breakdown’s pipes, pinning him to the ground unscathed. Wheeljack stepped back. 

Knock Out’s chassis heaved and he swallowed hard, a servo above his spark. 

“Anybot got any bright ideas on how to fix this mess?” Wheeljack asked, servos on hips. 

“He’s an abomination and needs to be killed,” Starscream hissed. Transforming back into a bot, he landed next to Knock Out. “You never should have messed with the dead!” 

Knock Out’s helm shot up. 

“ _It’s because of you he’s a terrorcon!!_ ” and he was about to fly at Starscream again when Ultra Magnus spoke. 

“You knew he was a terrorcon?” he asked. 

All optics were on Knock Out. 

“I… I didn’t think it was going to be a problem,” he stammered. “The frame had been infected once before, yes… but how was I supposed to know the infection was still dormant in the frame when we revived him!?” 

“ _You brought him back from the dead?_ ” Bulkhead exclaimed. 

“He wasn’t dead!” Knock Out hastened to explain. “His spark, it had been ripped out, we reinstalled it-” 

“Who is _we?_ ” Wheeljack interjected. 

“Well, Ratchet, and Arcee,” Knock Out replied. 

Now everybot stared at her. 

“Smokescreen,” Bumblebee said. “Go fetch Ratchet. We’re going to need all the help we can get.” 

Smokescreen nodded. With the sparkling stasis canister safely in his arms, he raced off towards the _Nemesis_. 

“Help?” Knock Out stammered. “You’re going to help me?” 

“Breakdown’s a danger as a terrorcon,” Bumblebee said. “If we can’t cure him, then we won’t have any other options, so don’t thank us yet.” 

Numb, Knock Out reached out, placing a servo on Breakdown’s back. He looked so shaken, like he too was about to collapse. 

“Knock Out of Iacon.” A voice boomed out. It seemed to come from everywhere all at once as it reverberated across the broken and abandoned buildings. 

Everybot’s head turned upwards. 

There, standing in a blown out hole in the ceiling stood six bots. 

Knock Out’s pale faceplate instantly faded shades lighter. 

“Who are they?” Arcee heard Bumblebee whisper. 

But Arcee knew who they all were. She had seen them only once before, on Luna 2. What had Knock Out called them? 

_The DJD._

_“They hunt down defector Decepticons.”_ Knock Out had explained to her. _“It doesn’t matter if you have a good explanation. Their opinion is law and they only listen to Megatron. If they saw us, they would kill us.”_

But how had they found them!? 

The answer was the sixth bot, the one in the middle. Arcee felt her spark lodge itself in her pipes. 

It was Soundwave. He had led them straight to Team Prime. 

With a long and slender arm, Soundwave pointed straight at Knock Out. 

One of the DJD members stepped forwards. His deep yet melodic voice echoed all around them. 

_“We have come for you.”_

_**(The Flashback. . . After the War)** _

 

“Get off me.” Knock Out’s claws kneaded into the metal floor, frustration festering. “I said _get off!_ ” Swiping behind himself, he scraped Starscream’s thigh, drawing four thin lines of energon.

Yelping, Starscream jumped back, transforming himself away albeit with difficulty. 

“What do you-”

“Shut up,” Knock Out snapped. He was still bent over, his faceplate obscured as he continued to stare at the floor. 

If he could have seen Starscream’s reaction, he would have seen a fleeting glimpse of hesitation flash across his faceplate. It was quickly masked.

“Can’t even finish, can you?” Starscream leered, trying to step around Knock Out in hopes to glimpse his reaction. The light tip-tap sound of Starscream’s heeled pedes grated on his nerves. 

“A bit _rusty_ are we?” A crude grin snaked across Starscream’s faceplate. “Perhaps since the loss of your ‘ _partner_ ’?”

Knock Out immediately shot Starscream an icy stare. His searing red optics radiated dangerously.

But Starscream cackled, oblivious. “Can you even recall how many times you just moaned his name?”

Faceplate tinged with embarrassment, Knock Out whipped up to his feet, his claws curved ready for another attack.

“I knew it,” Starscream continued with another laugh. He folded his arms and straightened his wings in an arrogant stance. “I knew you were fragging your assistant. But never did I expect you were _emotionally_ catered! Well done, doctor.” He lazily slapped his servos together in a faux applaud. “You sure had me fooled that you could possibly ever _care_ about another bot.”

“Get out.” Knock Out fought to keep emotions at bay. 

Starscream paused briefly. “Don’t be irrational-”

“Shut up!” Knock Out spat, rising with an aggressive step forwards. “I want you out of my suite! In fact, I don’t want to see your hideous faceplate ever again.”

Starscream didn’t move. “What about taking back the Nemesis-”

“Are you joking!?” Knock Out let out a sudden, brash laugh. “Like I would ever work with the likes of you again!? After the way you dared to treat me? All those times you scratched my finish, grabbed me by the faceplate or put _your_ blame onto _me_ in front of Megatron? No, dear Starscream, you have drastically misjudged me if you think I’ll bend over to that.”

Starscream scoffed. “You were all too willing to bend over to _me_.”

Knock Out’s optics flew open but no words surfaced.

“You’re drunk,” Starscream retorted, taking a wary step back. “When the hi-grade runs through your system you’ll realise what an embarrassing emotional mess you are. Just follow my lead and-”

“Let me make myself clear.” Knock Out strode straight into Starscream’s personal space. Their mouthplates were barely a width apartment. Just a moment ago, they had been interlocked and on the floor, but now, they couldn’t be further from the opposite.

“If you don’t leave right now, I will call the Autobots.” Knock Out’s red optics reflected off Starscream’s faceplate. 

“Traitor.” Starscream’s vocaliser wasn’t even a whisper.

“At least I come out on top,” Knock Out vocaliser was both smooth and cold.

A snarl rippled across Starscream’s mouthplate. 

“Frag you,” he hissed. 

It was a low blow, Knock Out knew it. But he was too furious with himself for allowing the tryst to carry on as far as it had to care.

“Get out, or I’ll call Optimus Prime.” Knock Out’s response was quiet. 

He could see the tension in Starscream’s frame, the slight quiver as he struggled to keep his wings high and taunt. Knock Out had led him along from the very beginning, only to cruelly cut him off. Hadn’t Starscream just mocked him for being emotionally attached?

It was there, in the way Starscream’s optics darted all over Knock Out, as if trying to look for any sign that Knock Out could possibly be lying. That he’d change his mind. No such sign existed.

For the first time since Knock Out had known him, Starscream had nothing to say. Whipping around, Starscream left. 

As soon as the door shut, Knock Out let out a gasp and crashed to his knee joints. He could barely control his own trembling servos as he brought them up to his pipes, as if it might help him vent air out easier. 

Guilt burst within and he felt the need to retch. But even after all the hi-grade he had consumed, he merely gagged.

Knock Out had orchestrated the whole thing, from the very beginning. The shameless flirting with Starscream, stirring his attention with all the slight glances and subtle lilts of his voice, each one calculated to gain the second-in-command’s interest. But when it finally came down to enacting the manufactured tension, Knock Out was a victim of his own doing. 

All he could think about was Breakdown. 

He didn’t even want Starscream. He had always just been a means to an end, using what Knock Out had at his disposal. It had always worked for him, time and time again. Just tease and promise, and you’ll get what you want, he had always told a begrudging Breakdown.

But did Knock Out really say his partner’s name? Knock Out couldn’t even remember, his lustrous tangle with Starscream was a blur. He grimaced. He believed it. Starscream and Breakdown were _nothing_ alike, but Breakdown was all he could see in his processor’s optic. 

He had told Breakdown he’d never gone this far with Starscream when Breakdown had been alive, and that was the truth, but he had certainly started _this_ back then. All in an effort to manipulate Starscream, to secure a safe position for himself and for Breakdown on the _Nemesis_. 

That wasn’t entirely true. Knock Out basked in the attention, the pinning and frustrated tension he saw in Starscream’s optics were all like candy to him. Breakdown knew it too. He said as much before… before… 

Thoughts of Breakdown’s last night on the _Nemesis_ surfaced, and inevitably, so did the thoughts of Breakdown with Airachnid. Knock Out had little conviction that their fling had been as well-thought out as Knock Out’s constant flirting with Starscream.

The parallel in divide between the two conjux was apparent to Knock Out- and he could connect the dots. It all started with him.

_Breakdown is dead because of me._

The thought alone caused numbness from the inside out. 

And here he was. A drunk mess, sloppy for any kind of interfacing, as if he had never cared for Breakdown at all.

Then just as quickly, rage heated throughout his frame, straight to the tips of his digits. 

Was he so weak that he could just roll in the memory of his recently deceased conjux? He wanted nothing from Starscream, nor did he care for him in the slightest. So why… _why?_ His claws gripped his legs, cutting deep. His fury clouded the pain. Was Starscream all he had?

_Pathetic._

Starscream treated him like scrap. No, Knock Out would not fall to his own crafting by working, or anything else for that matter, with Starscream ever again. 

The tension subsided and Knock Out’s taunt grimace slacked. 

The silence made his audio receptors tingle.

He could feel his own sanity slipping away without Breakdown by his side. That’s how it had always been, though, hadn’t it? Breakdown had always been his anchor through life and how desperately Knock Out needed that never occurred to him. Instead, he had taken his conjux’s presence for granted. Not just him, the whole war too.

They had spent so much of their life avoiding it, that when it finally swallowed them up, Knock Out had the gall to laugh in its face. He had treated Starscream with ridicule and used him as a play toy. Only until Megatron had regained control of the Decepticons did it start to sink in. There was no escaping the war and their part had come.

Now here he was, at the end of it all. Alone. The war had been going on for so long, that Knock Out had always thought it would just be some noise in the background while he and Breakdown continued to live their fantasy paradise for two on Earth. 

They never should have come to the _Nemesis._ They should have ran. Never did the idea of losing Breakdown occur to him. 

Grief choked him. 

He had never been able to mourn Breakdown. A snarl curled on his faceplate as recalled Megatron so unceremoniously telling him his ‘assistant’ would not be coming back and Knock Out was left to ponder what that even meant as he repaired Megatron after some battle with an Insecticon. Only a few orns was he granted to sit and just digest this fact in isolation. Then the stakes had escalated and it felt like Knock Out was fighting to just barely survive every new scenario, the threat of his own death imminent. 

With a single sharp digit, Knock Out touched the side of his faceplate where the human in the apex armor suit had punched him. Would the Autobots really accept him? After defeating Unicron, the Autobots had not said much to him. Presumably, Optimus Prime would come to speak with him, or arrest him. 

His optics darted to the door where Starscream had left. What if he too left?

But everything beyond this suite felt expansive- empty and lonely. Cybertron may have the Well back, but it was still barren. Where else could he go? Earth?

Knock Out’s optics stared at the floor. 

What life would that be, with only his shadow to ride next to him?

He had nothing.

That’s not entirely true, the tiniest voice said in the corner of his processor. 

There was one thing for him here. One thing, Knock Out never expected to see again. Was it by design that Smokescreen had resurfaced when Breakdown had been lost?

Even if he’d never tell Smokescreen, he could watch him. Watch the newspark Breakdown had saved live the life he almost didn’t have.

Knock Out recalled walking down the _Nemesis_ halls with Smokecreen and Arcee. They had let him walk behind them, despite him _just_ having announced his change of allegiance. It was like they _trusted_ him.

A subtle smile played on the corner of Knock Out’s mouthplate. 

That was more respect than he’d ever had under Megatron’s rule. Just that small taste was enough to pique Knock Out’s interest in sticking around. 

He had seen how the Autobots treat one another, they way they talk to each other, as if they’re allowed to laugh and joke or stand at ease in each other’s presence. What a drastic difference compared to Megatron’s cold militaristic rule where he and Breakdown had to share a suite with separate berthrooms. If anybot knew they were conjux endura, that information could be used against them- one could be harmed to control the other. It wasn’t safe to admit you cared about another bot. Did the Autobots live so repressed? It didn’t appear that way. 

Arcee had asked him why he turned on Starscream. He told her Starscream would probably just fire him out of the airlock. Maybe not, but he’d be treated as much. 

Perhaps there was a sympathy for Starscream, somewhere, deep inside Knock Out. He had been his medic, after all. He knew things. But in the moment, presented between life as Starscream’s lap dog and… this new opportunity with the Autobots... 

He snapped. Knock Out couldn’t take it anymore. The grief bottling up since Breakdown’s death, since the horrific return of Cylus in Breakdown’s frame, it exploded and Knock Out made the snap decision of his life. 

He was oddly calm about it. 

Slowly, Knock Out unfurled his digits, staring into them. Even if the fate of his future was unclear, he could feel all the stress of making it to another day aboard this ship dissipate. Whatever the Autobots had to offer, it had to be better. 

He rose to his pedes, looking down at himself. Furrowing his brow ridges, he scrutinised the new scuffs from Starscream’s long claws on his frame. Another good reason never to engage with the seeker again. He would buff every one of these scratches out after a good rinse. 

It had been awhile since Knock Out pampered himself. It was difficult, without Breakdown. The thought lingered in his mind. He let out a long vent of air.

But Knock Out wanted no reminders of what just occurred. No, instead, he’d start afresh, whatever his fate might be with the Autobots. Because even if he didn’t admit it to himself, the memory of Smokescreen and Arcee walking in front of him stirred a tiny pulse of excited curiosity in his spark. 

Maybe. Just _maybe_ , Knock Out could find a home with the Autobots.

And maybe picking a side once and for all wouldn’t be so bad.


	18. Who's Afraid of the DJD? |&| Stardust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the hiatus. This is getting finished this month. Thank-you SO MUCH to all, a huge thank-you to those that leave comments. You have no idea how happy they make me. It completely lifts my day to read a positive comment on this story.

Knock Out felt faint. His knee joints shook, about to cave in under his weight. 

“We have come for you, Knock Out.” Tarn’s voice, calm and harmonic, echoed through the open roofed hall of the former Waves Estate. The voice ensnared everyone’s attention with an immediate sense of fright. Nobot made a sound.

“Autobots,” Tarn said, skillfully raising his inflection slightly; “We only seek the former Decepticon, Knock Out. Hand him over to us, and we will leave you unscathed.”

The silence that followed lasted an eternity for Knock Out. Every second beat in time with his pulsing spark. He couldn’t move. Not even to look at the Autobots. Every joint inside his body was locked into place. He didn’t even dare vent out air. 

Even as his vision blurred, the tips of his audio sensors tingled. He knew all optics were on him. Was it possible for his faceplate to pale even further? Was there any energon even left inside him? He felt as weak and flimsy as a sheet of metal in the wind. 

He grimaced as dread drowned him from the inside. He was going to die. Today, Knock Out watched his conjux endura revert to a terrorcon, most likely to be killed, and now, he would join him in the Allspark.

There was no escaping the Decepticon Justice Division. If you were on their list, you were as good as dead. The terrifying massive five mechs whose alt modes transformed into devices of torture were the Decepticon’s most feared, most deadly members. As Megatron’s faithful followers, they didn’t just kill Autobots, but would slaughter any Decepticons they deemed had turned from the cause.

As a recently branded Autobot, Knock Out was as good as dead.

It wouldn’t just be a quick death either. Knock Out shut his optics, fighting to keep his spark from failing from fear itself.

Soundave had turned him in. Clearly, after fleeing the shadowzone, Megatron’s favourite bot had tracked down the DJD and brought them here. Dismayed at the betrayal, his spark flittered a pulse.

“Soundwave!” 

Everybot jolted as Starscream pushed his way through the crowd. 

“T-thank Primus you’re here!” He waved his arms in grand gestures. “I was just about to call you! L-Look!! I found the Autobots!” The hesitation in his voice clearly revealed his bluff. 

Knock Out saw Arcee shake her helm, her expression contorted into disgust at the Decepticon’s immediate turn. He had just been begging the Autobots for sanctuary! Starscream would do anything to save his aft. 

Knock Out recalled how Optimus Prime reminded him of how similar he and Starscream were in their morals when it comes to survival.

The comparison created an instantaneous snarl on his faceplate.

“Starscream of Vos.” As soon as Tarn spoke his name, the wings on Starscream’s back wilted. “Glad to hear it. We have been worried about you since we were told of the Autobot’s hold of the Nemesis.” He gestured at Soundwave.

Starscream narrowed his optics.

“I am one of Megatron’s most loyal!” He insisted. “Most _beloved!_ You won’t find a Decepticon more devoted than myself!” 

Tarn lifted his helm.

“Save for yourself, of course,” he drawled low and cruelly. He took a step backwards, as if wishing the Autobots would obscure him once again. 

“Now,” Tarn said, directing his small, red optics back to Bumblebee. “The ex-Decepticon, please.” He held out his servo.

“Not a chance.”

Knock Out’s gasp didn’t make a sound.

Bumblebee stepped forward, chassis puffed out. 

A soft, melodic chuckle purred from Tarn’s vocaliser. 

“Young Autobot,” he began, his stance completely at ease. “Do you not run a Democracy? Perhaps your comrades would like to have their say on how they feel with a Decepticon in their midst?”

It was clear to Knock Out: Tarn’s choice of words were purposefully chosen to stir discourse among the Autobots with their ‘young’ leader.

Panicked, Knock Out knew better than to expect any kind of support from anybot else other than perhaps Arcee, especially with Breakdown’s trial as a precursor. Bots like Wheeljack and Bulkhead of course didn’t want him or Breakdown as a part of the team. He suspected Ultra Magnus to have similar feelings. 

He saw Arcee open her mouthplate, but before she could speak, Bulkhead, of all bots, strode forward.

“I think Bumblebee has a fair idea of what we think,” he said, transforming his fists into his twin wrecking ball weapons.

“If Optimus approved of Knock Out as an Autobot, then I defend that decision,” Ultra Magnus added.

“You know me,” Wheeljack said. “Always up for a challenge.” He drew his twin swords.

Arcee transformed out her weapons. She didn’t even have to say anything on behalf of Knock Out, the smile she sent his way was enough.

Knock Out was speechless. 

“It seems as if the Autobots are unanimous,” Skyfire said. As he spoke, Knock Out spied Starscream glancing at his conjux endura nervously. 

“Well, Tarn?” Bumblebee said. “You can still walk away. There doesn’t have to be a fight.”

Everybot watched as Soundwave glanced up at Tarn. His mask rendered his faceplate emotionless.

“How unfortunate,” he said after a long pause. “I had rather looked forward to returning later tonight and slaughtering you all. We will end things here.”

Knock Out couldn’t believe the reality surrounding him. Team Prime, _Optimus Prime’s core team_ was going to take on the _Decepticon Justice Division_ on _his behalf_.

“B-Bumblebee,” he sputtered. “You can’t, you’ll die. You’ll all die! Look at them! They’ll mow you down into scrap!”

Bumblebee shook his helm. “You’re part of Team Prime now, Knock Out. We defend our own.”

A shadow loomed over Knock Out and he startled to see Bulkhead approach. 

“What kind of mech would I be if I just let them kill you?” he said to Knock Out’s bewilderment. “Smokescreen would never forgive me.”

“It’s not like we haven’t been through worse,” Arcee added, nodding. “Remember Luna 2? And there were only the two of us then.”

“Luna 2?” Bumblebee asked, all bots gave her a quizzical look.

She flinched. “A story for another day,” she muttered. 

“Tesarus,” Tarn said, loud enough for all to hear. “Play track eleven, won’t you?” 

When he faced the Autobots, his eerie red optics appeared to light up with a thirst for energon. “Pray to Primus for your sparks,” he said.

Bumblebee whipped out his guns, his servos transforming. He shouted to the team, “Someone get Breakdown out of here. We can’t risk him waking up and joining in the fight if he can turn any one of us into a terrorcon!”

Fear for Breakdown’s well-being seized Knock Out but before he could say anything, Skyfire stepped forwards.

“I’ll take him back to the Nemesis.” More than twice Breakdown’s size, he would be able to carry him with ease. 

With a swift nod, Bumblebee pelted forwards, shooting at the oncoming Decepticons. 

Still frozen in place, Knock Out watched as Arcee raced after Bumblebee, taking a flanking position. She leapt with ease over debris, adding her blasts to the firepower. 

“Just when we thought the fighting was over,” Bulkhead said, bounding after them.

“Isn’t there a saying about all work and no play?” Wheeljack replied with a dry laugh. His mouthplate guard transformed over his mouthplate. 

Horrified, Knock Out felt helpless as he watched Team Prime and the DJD collide. The difference in sizes was staggering. Tarn alone was the size of Optimus Prime while Helex and Tesarus dwarfed all of them.

“You should find someplace to hide,” Skyfire’s voice shook Knock Out out of his trance. “They’re here specifically for you. The Autobots are just playthings at this point.”

Flee? Knock Out felt the joints holding the tires on his back twitch, the instinct to transform and flee innate inside him. But he looked back over at Team Prime, at Bumblebee, who had no good reason to protect him. Or Ultra Magnus who surely fought only under Bumblebee’s command. Bulkhead and Wheeljack, both of whom hated him and Breakdown so much they tried to kill them once. Or Arcee… a friend.

But a sudden sound of an oncoming Soundwave snared his attention. He was speeding in his alt mode straight towards Knock Out!

“Go!” Knock Out shouted, he transformed his twin saws out of his servos. “Just keep Breakdown safe!”

Skyfire didn’t argue.

Right as he fled with the unconscious Breakdown, Soundwave slammed into Knock Out before he could ready himself. The nose of Soundwave’s alt mode crunched into Knock Out’s weakened chassis. There was a gross crunch as metal cracked.

Growling, Knock Out struggled to use his saws to dig into Soundwave. He managed to crack the glass of his canopy but it wasn’t enough to deter. Afterburners still firing, Soundwave continued to drive Knock Out back, the two covering ground until Soundwave slammed Knock Out into one of the few remaining murals decorating the deteriorating Waves’ Estate . 

Rubble collapsed on top of them, dust obscuring Knock Out’s vision. He coughed, forcing himself to stand despite the pain of his wounded chassis. But just as he regained balance, two tentacle cords shot out of the dust cloud, coiling themselves around Knock Out’s frame.

He let out a shocked cry and struggled to free himself to no avail. As the dust settled, Soundwave approached. With his arms tied to his sides, Knock Out was defenseless.

“So this is what you thought of me all this time?” Knock Out said through gritted dentae. Soundwave wrapped his cords tighter around Knock Out causing him to grimace in pain.

The Autobots were too far away fighting the DJD to witness Knock Out’s predicament. 

But as Soundwave transformed, tentacles still tightly wound around his prey, Knock Out realised Soundwave wasn’t going to kill him right there. He was going to be air-lifted straight to Tarn!

He struggled harder, fighting to angle his saws upwards to slice at Soundwave, but it was impossible. Soundwave rose higher and Knock Out attempted to weigh himself backwards, his pedes digging into the ground. He was completely helpless all tied up and his pedes started to leave the ground…

_… No!_

Then a blue flash soared over Knock Out’s helm, impacted into Soundwave and sent him flying backwards, his cords ripping Knock Out free. 

He tumbled to ground hard, his already aching chassis heaving with strain. Quickly, servos on the ground, Knock Out looked up to see…

Smokescreen!

Guns out, Smokescreen fired at Soundwave, overwhelming him with quick and brutal blasts. Blows striking him in his alt mode, Soundwave transformed to better block the blows with his long flat arms. 

Shocked by the two bots entangled in battle, Knock Out didn’t even notice Ratchet approach, with the green glow of a groundbridge reflecting behind him.. 

“I heard you needed a medic,” Ratchet said, offering his servo to Knock Out. 

Skyfire must have sent him! 

“But we didn’t imagine you’d need an army.” Ratchet gestured to Team Prime battling the DJD. 

How they were able to hold their own against the massive mechs was beyond Knock Out. Suddenly he didn’t feel so bad about always losing to them in combat when he had been a Decepticon. 

The groundbridge behind him surged and a stream of bots ran out. Bewildered, Knock Out stumbled out of their way, watching them run towards the battle. Where had they come from!? Then he started to recognise a few that had been at Breakdown’s trial, like Prowl. 

The last one to emerge was Elita One, her own weapons drawn. 

“Thank-you for alerting us, Ratchet,” she said, vocaliser stoic. “I don’t condone such brutality but I will not hesitate to deal with anybot who threatens the peace Optimus Prime died for.” Then she transformed and raced before her army to lead them into battle. 

Suddenly, Team Prime had expanded! With more bots, including a trine of seekers, to Knock Out’s shock, their odds against the DJD had increased.

He felt Ratchet place a servo on him, perhaps to guide him to the groundbridge to tend to his injury when he heard a cry from behind. 

His spark palpitated instinctively. 

Knock Out and Ratchet turned on their pedes to witness Soundwave pinning Smokescreen to the ground. Before Knock Out even had time to react, Soundwave used the side of his long thin arms to slice Smokescreen’s pipes. 

Energon splashed up into the air.

“ _NO!_ ”

Knock Out was already pelting forwards, optics wild with rage. Saws out and whirling as hard and fast as he could drive them, he pulled his arms back, criss crossing.

“ _SOUNDWAAAAVE!!_ ” he screamed, cracking his vocaliser.

Soundwave looked up but did not appear threatened by Knock Out’s approach.

“ _I’LL KILL YOU!_ ”

Knock Out flung his right arm forwards, releasing the whirling saw, sending it flying straight into Soundwave’s screen faceplate. Glass exploded from the impact and a loud electronic gurgling _scream_ released from Soundwave. He stumbled back and away from Smokescreen blindly scratching at the saw lodged in his faceplate.

Already at Smokescreen’s side, Knock Out fell to his knees overcome with fear for his… 

“My son… don’t speak, don’t move.” Knock Out immediately applied his servos to Smokescreen’s pipes to suppress the bleeding.

Despairing, Knock Out watched Smokescreen twitch and twist from the pain of his pipes being split. Energon spilled out of his mouthplate and bubbled between Knock Out’s digits. Smokescreen was in so much pain he couldn’t stop his silent screams being drowned by the energon.

Knock Out’s servos were shoved aside by Ratchet whose much larger servos managed to completely press down on the wound.

“I can't lose him!” Knock Out said through wailing gasps. He stared down at his servos covered in Smokescreen’s energon. “Breakdown… now Smokescreen…”

Smokescreen stared at him, clearly aware of all that was happening despite tossing on the ground in pain. 

“Skyfire,” Ratchet spoke into his commlink. “I need a groundbridge back to the Nemesis immediately, I have an emergency.”

Instantly a groundbridge opened behind Ratchet. He pulled Smokescreen’s servo up and clamped it to his own wound. With ease, he hoisted Smokescreen off the ground.

Standing with them, Knock Out could see tears welling in the corners of Smokescreen’s optics no doubt induced by the pain. More energon gurgled from his mouth as he choked on his own sobs, screams and cries. 

“I won’t lose you.” Knock Out could barely use his shaking vocaliser. “I _don’t care_ how much you hate me, I’m _going to save you._ ”

It was then Knock Out felt something coil around his leg. Before he could look down, he was pulled out from under his own legs. Knock Out’s chinguard slammed the ground hard.

Suddenly, he was being dragged backwards. Looking over his shoulder plating, he saw Soundwave, saw still lodged in the middle of his cracked screen faceplate.

“GO!” Knock Out shouted at Ratchet, “Save him! Save my newspark!”

Ratchet shut his optics briefly, clearly showing his unwillingness to abandon him, but years of medic training prepared him for situations like these and Knock Out knew it. 

Contrary to his predicament, it was a relief to see Ratchet run through the groundbridge, Smokescreen in his arms. Soundwave’s shadow looming over him, Knock Out drew out his one remaining saw. 

“I’m going to let you know right now, Soundwave,” Knock Out said. He narrowed his brows, red optics reflecting off his white faceplate. “In harming Smokescreen, you’ve made a _very big mistake._ ”

 

Arcee winced from the blow of one of Vos’ attacks. Doing a backflip to avoid another hit, she bounded onto a nearby staircase railing and onto a chandelier. It swung wildly beneath her, crystals _clinking_ back and forth. It was hanging only by the cord. 

Balancing precariously, she fired a barrage of shots at the enemy mech. Each time he zipped out of the way, never removing his cold gaze from hers. 

The smallest of the DJD had zeroed in on her as a target. Perhaps because they were of a similar size and build. He was certainly proving to be a difficult opponent, as lithe and quick with his shots as she, he was constantly one step behind her… or ahead!

He fired at her, no, at the chandelier cord!

The cord ripped from the blast, and Arcee rolled with the momentum, skidding onto the ground. Just as she recovered, Vos launched at her, high in the air. 

For this one instant he was vulnerable and Arcee fired, landing her shot in his chest. The shot took him to the ground and when he fell, Arcee gasped.

In the air, behind him, it was Soundwave flying in the air… with Knock Out tied beneath him!

Instantly, she transformed and raced after them.

She sped low on the ground, weaving through the battlefield. She dodged blasts and weaved under the pedesteps of the massive bots above her. Every decision she made was reactive to her environment, as she scanned anything she could use as…

There! 

She revved her engine and skidded left, driving up and along one of the legs of the largest DJD member currently fighting five bots. Using this, she leapt off his back unbeknownst to him and into the air. 

Arcee’s wheels bounced under the impact as she landed on a thin railing winding up a curling and broken staircase.

She could still see Soundwave and Knock Out. She crested the final wall and she could finally see the entire sky unimpeded by the crubling ceiling of the Waves Estate. Soundwave was bringing Knock Out straight to the DJD ship!

Revving her engine harder, Arcee leapt into the air as the broken staircase came to an end and...

… quickly transformed out of her alt mode as her still turning wheels almost drove her straight off Soundwave’s back. 

Soundwave reeled from shock.

Already, Arcee’s blades were out and she started hacking at Soundwave’ cords to free Knock Out.

As soon as Soundwave was aware, he threw himself into a spin, and up, up up into the sky.

Being churned faster, Arcee struggled and strained to keep her hold. Sparks flew from her digits as they scraped along Soundwave’s wings. 

Then in a violent twist, Soundwave transformed in midair. His wings becoming arms released from under Arcee’s grip and suddenly she was falling.

Just as quickly as Soundwave transformed, he transformed back into his alt mode, Knock Out still ensnared in his cords.

Shocked, Arcee was flung like a sparkless frame. Then gravity took hold and she fell. 

Gritting her dentae, she fired a shot at Soundwave’s cords. The blast landed squarely and forced Soundwave to lose hold of Knock Out.

She could see him fall, but her, her descent was much longer than his because she fell, farther, father… and straight down the Well of Allsparks.

 

_Wake up… wake up… Hurry!_

She felt a gentle glow on the side of her faceplate. Moaning, Arcee opened her optics and saw…

The sky. Distant, it was nearly swallowed entirely by the walls of the Well.

Rubbing her helm, Arcee sat up, her frame aching. Down below, she saw the bottom of the Well of Allsparks. A giant spherical orb larger than the size of the Nemesis lay below. It emanated a blue glow, almost cathartic in its warmth. Was this where Optimus had flown into? Was that Primus himself within that glow where all sparks were born?

Her own spark felt oddly at peace despite her aching ringing in her helm and the increasing fear that she was stuck. 

She looked back up. There’s no way anybot would ever hear her if she screamed for help. Had anybot seen her fall in?

She saw small grooves creating metallic patterns along the Well’s walls. But they weren’t deep enough to get a strong hold of. There were a few ledges sticking out here and there, some thicker than others but all of them spread too far apart to climb. 

She was stuck.

But not alone.

Her audio receptors picked up the sound of a soft _clink… clink…_ along the Well’s walls. 

Arcee drew out the blades along her arms. 

The shadows rippled and a familiar chuckle echoed around the walls. The sound encased her, inducing a claustrophobic sensation. Arcee felt herself tense. 

The sound came from above. She looked up and...

… Airachnid revealed herself from the shadows.

They stared at each other upside down. Airachnid’s crazed purple optics bleeding into hers. 

“Why hello, Arcee.“ Airachnid laughed.

Whipping around to face her straight on, Arcee readied her guns at Airachnid, daring her not to move any closer. Arcee could feel the edge of the ledge at the heel of her pede. She had no room to flee.

Airachnid blinked, adding a mockingly faux confused helm tilt.

“One little push and I’ll be able to literally watch you return to your maker.” A twisted grin spread on Airachnid’s faceplate.

“Don’t tell me the DJD spared you,” Arcee spat.

“Megatron’s lap dogs?” Airachnid chuckled. “They weren’t even aware I stowed aboard their ship after giving them the slip into the shadows.”

Unbelievable! 

Arcee was growing convinced that nothing could kill this insecticon queen. Airachnid had been the bane of Arcee’s life for millions of years ever since she had slain Tailgate before Arcee’s own optics. Now, just when Arcee had surmised that Airachnid had finally met her match in the five cruel bots that were the DJD, Airachnid had escaped death yet again! 

That familiar rage filled her and she raised her guns so they met Airachnid straight in the optics. 

“You’re dead.” Arcee’s vocaliser was fierce.

Still, Airachnid walked closer. The clink clink of her arachnid legs chiming through the silent vacuum they found themselves in. She paused when her faceplate was barely a width from Arcee’s gun.

“Or maybe I’ll bite you,” Airachnid whispered. Her smile spread into a sadistic grin, revealing her fangs. “And we’ll be locked into battle for eternity as terrorcons. Then you’ll never rejoin with your lost partner in the Allspark.”

Arcee’s chassis swelled with pure frenzy and she let out an undecipherable scream. Charging up her guns, she blasted them straight at Airachnid, but her enemy had anticipated her attack and leapt out of the way.

Aiming for where Airachnid could land next, Arcee shot a barrage of blasts. But each one missed, no matter her predetermination. 

Airachnid was right. Arcee had nowhere to go. There were a few more outcrops, but all of them far above or below. She was a clear disadvantage unless she was able to injure Airachnid.

But right now, Airachnid was clearly mocking her by not even attempting to strike back. Was it just Arcee or did every jump, every dive, look like it lacked effort. Arcee was being toyed with. 

She had to change the odds to her favour.

Noticing one of the longer ledges along the Well’s walls, Arcee gauged the distance. 

Before she could contemplate, two sticky balls of webbing shot at Arcee, aiming straight for her wrist joints. Barely, Arcee missed these attacks but as Airachnid fired two more from her servos, Arcee realised it was now or never.

Aiming for one of the small grooves in the wall, Arcee leapt from her ledge. All weight on the one pede, it barely scraped the edge of the groove. Pushing off upwards, she tumbled onto the ledge above the previous one. 

Quickly she rolled to a stance, unrelenting in her blasts at Airachnid.

“So you want to _play?_ ” Airachnid laughed, her optics widening in excitement. 

Scittering along the walls, Airachnid shot more web balls at Arcee. Each one she dodged, returning fire. Using the momentum from one dodge, she leapt onto the wall and pushed off, aiming for another ledge above. But it wasn’t enough! Quickly, she transformed her right gun back into her servo and snatched the ledge. 

The backforce of the swing almost caused her to lose her grip, but she dug her servos into the ledge as deeply as she could. Grunting from the strain on her shoulder joints, she clenched her dentae. 

_SPLAT!_

Arcee let out a reactive gasp and flinched. She could feel the sticky webbing all around her servo and no matter her strain, she couldn’t even wiggle her digits. Freely hanging from the ledge, Arcee was completely vulnerable. 

Panic started to streak through her system, stemming from her frantically pulsing spark. Of course, wiggling did nothing, no amount of momentum or push away from the ledge would free her servo from Airachnid’s webbing. Already she could feel the burn of her own weight on her shoulder joint.

_CLACK!_

Arcee’s optics widened, mouthplate grimacing as Airachnid landed on the ledge Arcee had aimed for. Above her, the glow of the Allspark lighting her from underneath, Airachnid let out a cruel laugh.

“How many years- how many _millions of years_ has it been, of you fleeing me?” Airachnid taunted in mock ponder. “And all of it for naught. Did you really think you could escape me? Or was it proper denial the whole time?” 

Her spider legs were on the edge, on either side of Arcee’s trapped servo. Bending low, all Arcee could see was Airachnid’s faceplate.

“I’ve grown too attached to our interactions to let go, haven’t you?” Her grin creeped across her faceplate, widening. “Yes, I think I’ll keep you.”

Her grin widened, revealing her terrorcon infested fangs. “I’m far too greedy to just let you die. I want you to hate me forever, Arcee. Join me!”

Airachnid lunged for Arcee’s open pipes but just as Arcee’ shut her optics, she heard a loud _CRASH_ exploding next to her audial receptors. When she opened her optics, all she saw was an explosion of sparks. 

Crying out, Arcee shielded her optics by raising her free arm and recoiling. 

Airachnid’s anguished cry consumed the entire Well. Arcee couldn’t believe her optics.

Starscream in his alt mode had flown straight into Airachnid. Energon was twisting in the air as it spewed from where he had impacted her. The moment burned into Arcee’s mind, completely stunned by the sight of her two sworn enemies battling.

In a sharp turn, Starscream reared back, allowing Airachnid to drop from the nose of his alt mode.

For one instant, Arcee locked optics with Airachnid, witnessing the spider queen fall… down.. Down… down… helpless and hopeless for any chance of rescue.

Airachnid was heading straight for the bottom of the Well, towards the maze of cords and beams that held the Allspark in its place at the bottom. Surely, Airachnid would die upon impact but… she had escaped before, over and over again.

Arcee locked her gaze into Airachnid’s and, ever so calmly, raised her weaponised servo. 

With a single blast, Arcee fired.

Her blast landed it’s mark, right into Airachnid’s side and knocking her off course on an angle and…

… straight into the Well of Allsparks. 

Airachnid let another another long, angished scream, helplessly clawing at the air.

Arcee never looked away, wouldn’t even shutter her optics, as the bright white light of the Allspark swallowed Airachnid’s silhouette. 

A surge of light bubbled from the Allspark.

_Take care of her, Optimus._

The _whooshing_ sound of air pumping next to her, alerted her to Starscream’s presence.

“That’s twice I’ve saved you from Airachnid,” he said. 

“Why?”

“I could leave you down here.” Starscream said with irritation.

“You won’t,” Arcee retorted. “You saw me fall down and you flew in after me. There’s no other way you would have known I was down here. Why’d you save me?”

“I’d say, but you’d kill me too and I’m your ticket out of here,” he replied.

Cliffjumper. 

That’s why he saved her from Airachnid the first time, wasn’t it? He didn’t know, he never did, that Cliffjumper was her lover. Would he have spared him then? When he had almost killed them both all the millions of years ago on Cybertron, was he not going to kill them then either? Starscream? The disgusting, slimy, least trustworthy bot she’d ever met? 

“Congratulations on finally killing Airachnid,” he said, his voice breaking her thoughts.

“Born from the Allspark, and returned to the Allspark,” Arcee replied. “I wouldn’t call it ‘killing’.”

He let out a huff. “Call it what you like, Autobot, just hop on so we can get out of here.” 

Before she could say anything, he angled himself beneath her and fired two blasts on either side of her servo, freeing her of Airachnid’s web. She landed on top of Starscream’s ‘back’ and clung to his wings as he lit his burners and propelled them towards the sky. Wind rushing past her, Arcee glimpsed back down, towards the Allspark.

She had no idea what waited on the other side for Airachnid and maybe one day Arcee would find out, but for now, Arcee could finally live. Even without Tailgate or Cliffjumper, because Airachnid could never take anybot from her ever again. 

It was funny, she thought, the wind blowing past her as she clung to Starscream. She now recalled Knock Out once asking her what a sparkrift felt like, when he had assumed she had a conjux endura. She told him she didn’t have one, that she longed for a sparkrift so she could feel some sort of resolution to her lost loves. 

But now, with no sparkrift to feel, she felt something else in her spark and it was something she hadn’t felt in a long time. 

A smile spread on her faceplate.

This was what she had fought for, why Airachnid’s death was ever so crucial to her and Arcee wasn’t even sure what to call it. But it’s meaning was insurmountable. No longer burdened and hurt, Arcee suddenly realised the feeling. Yes, she hadn’t felt it in so long because she couldn’t even recall when she had lost it, this sense of normalcy within her spark.

Light burst all around her when Starscream shot out of the Well and into the air. High, high above the ground, Arcee gasped, looking down at the battle below. Around forty bots and the DJD were completely overwhelmed. Despite their sheer massive size, they could not keep her teammates at bay. 

“We’re winning!” she exclaimed, “And look! There’s even more bots!”

Indeed, in addition to Team Prime and Elita One’s team, seven more bots had joined, including a mini-con. Although she did not know them, she did recognise one of them, it was the bot she had seen Bumblebee with by the spacebridge when he had gone missing after his open fight with Ratchet. 

“ENOUGH!” Tarn fired the cannon on his arm through the crowd. A neon purple beam seared Arcee’s optics and she flinched. With bots either injured or distracted, Tarn transformed into his alt mode and charged forwards, ploughing through the crowd towards Knock Out. who was on his side on the ground where he must have fallen, or been dragged after being released from Soundwave. 

Leaping into the air, he transformed, shaking the ground as he landed directly in front of Knock Out. Shaken to the ground by Tarn’s impact, Knock Out didn’t even have a chance to avoid Tarn’s clawed servo pinning him to the ground.

“ _We are not leaving without you!_ ” Tarn roared. “ _PLAY TRACK ONE._ ”

Suddenly, a screeching, high-pitched and agonising sound pierced the air that sounded nothing at all like music. It was so strenuous to listen to that bots stopped fighting, falling to their knees out of pain and covering their audio receptors. Arcee too immediately slapped her servos to her audios. It sounded like bots screaming and yet there was an unmistakeable sick melody all the sounds were tied to. It’s like the Pit itself had a theme song.

Starscream, too, reared in agony, unable to cover his audios. He flew higher into the air to try and distance himself from the sound.

“No!” Arcee almost broke her own vocal chords to be heard over the sound. “Drop me down! I’ve got to help Knock Out!”

“You’re insane!” Starscream screeched.

“Just drop me!” Arcee screamed back.

His thrusts shutting off, Starscream dropped himself, tilting so his nose pointed downwards. As they neared the ground, Arcee leapt off of Starscream. Just as she did, he blazed his burners again and soared back up into the air. 

“ _No Decepticon escapes,_ ” Tarn hissed. He flinched his servos, a loud crunching sound tingled on Arcee’s spine as Knock Out’s frame crushed under his hold. Knock Out let out a shrill scream as Tarn ripped off his chassis where his Autobrand had been. “You shame the Decepticons with your existence! Yes, we have heard of your reputation, ‘doctor’! We know of your exploits in the war, or rather how you abandoned responsibility to the Decepticon name! You’re a cowa-”

But he didn’t finish. Tarn never noticed light and tiny Arcee spring up his frame. He only noticed when, in a swift slice, Arcee split open the back of Tarn’s helm. Bouncing off his open helm she landed in front of Knock Out.

Roaring in pain, Tarn released Knock Out, who was in too much pain even to crawl away.

Energon poured like a waterfall from the back of Tarn’s helm, exposing his processor. 

“Who-” Tarn began, stopping as soon as he saw Arcee. 

He chuckled, low and harmoniously.

“Arcee of Praxis, is it not?” 

Arcee faltered. How did he know her name, let alone where she originated?!

“I know of you, from your sire, Flamewar of Kaon.” Tarn had no mouth. Like Soundwave, his faceplate was a mask, but his red optics shone through and she swore he was smiling. “She spoke of you, during our travels. I was honoured, to slaughter alongside one of Megatron’s most faithful.”

“Get fragged,” Arcee spat. 

Her optics zeroed in on his constantly shuttering optics, obviously realising his frame’s fight to keep conscious as energon continued to flow in a heavy stream from the back of his scalp. 

It was during one of these weakened shutters, that she launched herself forwards. Tarn didn’t even see her coming, and never would even as his helm hit the ground, his frame still standing, energon spewing from the hole where his helm had been. It was only after Arcee landed, her twin blades soaked in his energon, that Tarn’s body crashed down.

Only then did Arcee notice the sounds of fighting has stopped. 

The remaining DJD had seen it all. As had Soundwave, apparently. He was the first to flee, soaring into the air, weaving haphazardly from his injuries..

Without their leader, and surrounded by bots outnumbering them, Arcee assumed the DJD tried to flee too. But she didn’t know their fate as she turned her back on them.

Instead, she ran to Knock Out. His open chassis heaving with strain and energon pouring out. He rolled his optics back to look up at her, still unable to move.

“Hey, hey, Ratchet can fix this,” she said, now on her knee joints. She was already on her comm-link calling him.

“Please… Arcee…” He’s claws clung to her arms. “Don’t let them kill Breakdown… _please_ and… and tell Smokescreen…” With every vent of air, his chassis heaved more energon. “I care. I always did.”

“Please,” Arcee whispered, resting a servo to his helm. “Don’t strain yourself. You’re going to be okay.”

A weak smile on his face, despite his pain.

“And… Arcee.” His optics were beginning to pale in colour. “Thank you, for everything. I…” he let out a strained gasp. “I never had a friend like you before. Like any of you. Thank you.”

Arcee fought to keep her tears at bay, but it was fruitless. “Don’t talk, just rest. Ratchet will know what to do.”

Knock Out nodded slowly, closing his optics. 

A green burst of light indicating the arrival of Ratchet via groundbridge lit up behind her. She could hear the sounds of pedesteps as her friends approached. She felt the familiarity of Bulkhead’s heavy pedesteps, of Wheeljack standing next to him, slightly apart from the group. Ultra Magnus’ was not a quiet walker either and Bumblebee, slightly taller than she, took hold of her servo. Whatever the DJD’s fate, it was over.

“It’s going to be okay,” Arcee said on a small vent of air. Only now did she realise how injured she was, of how heavy her frame felt, and how overexerted her processor was. “We’re all going to be okay.”

Finally, Arcee, recognised that feeling within her spark.

It was peace. 

And it consumed her whole as she collapsed to the ground.

**_(The Flashback. . . During the War)_ **

 

The stars surrounded Arcee. Her optics darted everywhere. All she saw were stars. 

Letting go of her sensors, she felt consumed by them and thus, comforted. Only at times like this, did Arcee ever experience a pause in her existence. For fleeting instances, she’d feel guilty for it, that she could be doing something else to help win the war, other than to just lay flat-back on the Nevada ground and stare up into the night sky. But then that touch, that small, unimportant touch of metal to metal as Cliffjumper reached for her digits with his. Well, it’s importance erased all doubts.

They would often stare into the night sky in silence, sneaking away from the rest of Team Prime in the middle of the night. On the roof of their underground base, they would sit together, all of their thoughts and secrets shared between them. It was the one place in all the universe over all her millions of years, that Arcee felt completely safe.

Even though she wasn’t, and she knew it. 

There was still a war. She could die any day, any of them. Yet even with those thoughts, safety in her spark persisted when under the blanket of the stars. She’d seen stars before, in different galaxies on different planets yet despite how far Earth was from Cybertron, this was different.

“Hey, Arcee.” Cliffjumper’s low vocaliser meandered through her thoughts. “I did a little research today, see that one?” She followed his gesture to a cluster of stars. “The humans call that one Ursa Major. It’s supposed to look like a bear.”

Arcee had seen bears before during her countless hunts for energon but she tilted her helm in confusion at the constellation. 

“I don’t see the resemblance,” she said.

Cliffjumper chuckled. “I said _supposed_ to look like...”

Arcee studied the constellation further. To her, it looked more like a mini-con, if it was missing one of its four legs. 

“And that one,” Cliffjumper added while leaning closer to her. She could feel the warmth of air venting from his vocaliser tingle her audial receptors. “That’s Ursa _Minor_ , a bear newspark.”

“Do the young ones not have legs?” she questioned in jest, unable to resist sending some sarcasm his way. There was nothing bear-like in the square with a tail. 

“Okay,” Cliffjumper leaned away from her and she felt a small pang of disappointment. “So humans might not be the most _accurate_ species when it comes to cataloguing their star system.” She glanced over at him when she felt his servo hold hers. “But I still give them points for creativity.”

A smile twitched in the corners of her mouthplate as she focused on Cliffjumper’s digits intermingling with hers. Any guilt she previously felt slipped away without realisation, because it was moments like this that she survived each day for. 

Cliffjumper rubbed the crest of his chassis softly. “You think the big guy is on to us? Any of ‘em?”

She sent him dubious look. “That we’re-”

“Fragbuddies?”

“Cliffjumper!” she admonished, yet felt no embarrassment. “You could word it a little more eloquently.”

“Partners?” he offered.

She swallowed her laughter. “Do we make it obvious?”

“I think Bulkhead gets the picture,” Cliffjumper said. “Come one, we both know he eyed your cute little aft when you came waltzing into the base the first time.”

Arcee smacked him on his shoulder plating. 

“Hey, I’m not complaining!” Cliffjumper laughed, staring back at the stars. “I’m not the possessive jealous type.” She caught him eyeing her from the corner of his optics. “Besides, it’s not like any of them can live up to this hunk of steel!” and he shot her a playful wink.

Arcee smirked, enjoying the flirting under her exasperated exterior. “Because that’s how I pick my dates. Pure physical attraction.”

“Hey, it’s all I got!” Cliffjumper insisted. “If it weren’t for my shiny paint, I’d never land a femme like you!”

She rolled her optics and retorted swiftly, “Because there’s nothing else you can offer me to keep me around.”

“You’re talking about my smile, aren’t you?”

Their laughter mingled harmoniously, echoing across the vast desert. Laughter subsiding, silence filled the air and Arcee felt a chill. Not from the Nevada air, but from somewhere within.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life right now, Cliff.” 

She heard him let out a huff of air. “You’d be kicking ‘con tailpipe like some badaft warlord with optics for a necklace.”

She let out a brash laugh at the image of that. “Maybe,” Arcee replied. “But I don’t know how much I’d enjoy it.”

For once Cliffjumper was completely silent. 

“Have I ever told you,” he said. Instantly, Arcee picked up on his sombre tone and she felt herself tense. “I have a great… big… _juicy_ …” her tension subsided as she raised a dubious brow ridge. “Secret?”

“ _Secret?_ ” Arcee repeated, shuttering her optics balefully. “Cliff, we live in a small base with four other bots. There’s no such thing as secrets. When Bulkhead sneezes, everybot knows.”

Cliffjumper’s soft chuckles eased her spark.

“Nah, this one’s a _real_ good one, not even Ratchet knows,” he said, taking on a lofty air. “It might even give him a run, it’s so good.”

“Okay, I’ll bite, what is it?” Arcee propped herself up on her her arm joints. 

She expected a playful jab in return, a wink, a grin, but instead he looked her straight in her optics. Utterly captivated by his optics she didn’t even shutter- _couldn’t_. He’d always been that way though, able to look straight into her in that mesmerising way. No, it wasn’t intrusive at all. Instead, a sense of warmth spread inside her, melting into every corner of her frame. 

But what did it mean?

She pursed her mouthplate to ask this very question, but it was almost as if he anticipated this response and cut her off at the pass because his tone was playful again.

“I’ll tell you one day,” he said, tauntingly, like it was all one big joke. For emphasis, he flashed her one of his eager grins.

She paused, shuttering her optics. “Cliff-” 

“Primus, Arcee, you’re amazing, you know that?” His vocaliser was low, soft. 

He leaned in, slow enough for her to stop him, if she wanted. But she didn’t.

The touch of his mouthplate to hers made her spark pulse wildly within her chassis. With so much isolation on this planet with just the six of them, Arcee absolutely craved this intimate connection. The kiss she returned was deep and pressing as she lay a servo on his faceplate.

Warmth filled her from the inside, all the way up and into her faceplate. 

Still barely a width apart, Cliffjumper said, “We’re in the middle of a losing war and I’ve never been happier, how’s that for a joke?”

A joke they both shared, she thought, unable to hold back a laugh of her own. 

“I can’t believe I’m actually starting to enjoy this planet,” she replied, kissing him fiercer to stifle her own laughter.

Because it was a joke, wasn’t it? Yes, they were on the same wavelength, Cliff and her. Cybertron had felt like the Pit, living with Prowl and Flamewar, being forced to pair with Ultra Magnus for Shockwave’s experiment with some unknown sparkling from Distribution Centre Number 38. Then the war, all of her friends dying, her home planet a floating massacred carcass. Yet here, six bots against the expansive Decepticon army, Arcee finally had found her peace, all because of Cliffjumper. 

They kissed fervently and she clung to him tighter than she had any other night, at least, that’s what she was sure of. Only when it started to rain, did they finally part. It pittered and pattered at first, but soon a downpour enveloped them and the stars washed away from beyond the rain.

Even with the tinge of cold air, Arcee was alight with heat inside. 

“I’m gonna tell you the secret right after I win you the war, you can count on it.” Cliffjumper leaned over her although still completely entangled with her. Rain trickled around his horns and dripped onto Arcee. 

He patted his chassis, right over his spark. “Right after I punch Megatron in the faceplate, I’m gonna scoop you up-” and he leapt to his pedes, his arms swiftly tucking under Arcee and plucking her off the ground with ease- “and I’m gonna ask you to be my sparkmate!” 

Again, he pushed his mouthplate to hers and she threw her arms around his shoulder plating. Only when he broke their kiss to gaze at her did she speak.

“I want a hint.”

Cliffjumper’s smile paused, she swore she could see him contemplating what to say as she shuttered the rain out of her optics.

“It’ll make you the happiest you ever been, I promise.” 

They kissed once more, the pinnacle of their night together before the rainfall curtailed their fun, at least for outdoors. As Cliffjumper carried her to the elevator leading to inside the base, Arcee sought comfort pressing her helm to his chassis. Even with metal casing separating her, she thought she could hear the soft hum of her lover’s spark. It was the perfect lullaby that she craved, that swift pulsing and as much as she wanted to press hers to his, she promised herself that only after the war would they join. Because only then would Arcee finally know peace.

But even though Cliffjumper would die the very next day, slain by a bot Arcee once knew, dare she even say ‘trusted’ at one point in her life, once upon a time, Cliffjumper would keep his promise. She had no way of knowing that of course, instead assuming the secret died with him, just before the end of the war. No, not until the war was _truly_ over, would the secret come to fruition, just as Cliffjumper had promised.


	19. Reconcile |&| It's All Happening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After it all.

Knock Out bolted upright. He choked on his own gasp. In the corners of his wide optics, he swore he could feel Tarn’s claws at the edge of his vision. His spark pulse quickened and he shut his optics tight to banish the nightmare.

When he opened them again, he recognised the _Nemesis’_ medbay. His chassis heaved heavily over and over as he fought to calm himself. But as he placed a servo over his palpitating spark, Knock Out instantly recalled Tarn’s massive paws. More than thrice the size of his own helm, they shot forward, reaching for him. Vividly, he recalled how those tearing claws pierced his chassis and tore it straight off his frame for daring to wear the Autobrand. 

A shiver skittered down the back of his frame as he relived both the pain and the sight of his bare spark exposed about to be torn straight out of his spark chamber. Instinctively, he checked himself.

A new chassis had been scanned and attached to his frame, silver and unpainted, but healed nonetheless. He had other injuries and he ached all over, but Knock Out had lived.

Even though he knew what happened at the Waves Estate, somehow the events were still a haze in his processor. Slowly, memories blossomed in his mind: how Bumblebee and the rest of Team Prime had fought against the Decepticon Justice Division to save _him_. 

Even Smokescreen.

_Smokescreen!_

Knock Out was up and out of the medslab in an instant. He stumbled under his weight but pushed himself off the ground and pelted out the doors. 

Flashes of Smokescreen’s pipes being slit hit him hard. Flashes of Arcee challenging Tarn, and of Breakdown, an unconscious terrorcon, clung to his processor, filling him with dread. Had they all survived? What good was his life if all the bots he cared about were dead?

Knock Out found Smokescreen in the room next to his. 

His vitals were stable. Knock Out swallowed hard, examining the patch wrapped around Smokescreen’s pipes. He was going to live.

Even so, the sigh Knock Out exuded was an anxious one. 

Despite all the odds, Smokescreen survived again. 

From the escape of the _Nemesis_ when Smokescreen had stolen the Omega keys, to the Iacon Hall of Records to way back when Smokescreen had been nothing but a sparkling, he was the only one to survive the explosion of Distribution Centre Thirty-Eight. 

It had been millions of years ago, but Knock Out remembered the night as clearly as yesterday; when Breakdown returned home from working the explosion clean-up and with him, the sparkling he found in the rubble. But the sparkling was dying and the two mechs thought for sure it wasn’t going to survive, unless they provoked it into transforming into a newspark by merging with it. They almost hadn’t. They were going to put it out of its misery when Breakdown’s merge had not been enough. 

But something inside of Knock Out caused him to go against his better judgement and it just so happened that’s all that sparkling needed to transform and survive; one more merge, one more collection of data.

Knock Out stared at Smokescreen’s servo. He remembered that servo when it had been less than halfthe size, a newspark’s servo. His mind filled with the memory of how that servo reached for his from the other side of the prison bars. 

Knock Out told Breakdown he had been too weak to reach back. But he lied. He just didn’t want to.

_Clink._

The tip of Knock Out’s sharp digit on Smokescreen’s made a quiet chime. 

But it wasn’t a lie was when Knock Out said he cared. He had always cared. Even if he didn’t understand it back then.

“I… I guess…”

Knock Out’s optics widened. 

Smokescreen gave a small cough and attempted to speak again. 

“I guess being Bumblebee isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, huh?” 

His vocaliser was rough, staticy but it was music to Knock Out’s audios. A natural smile spread across his faceplate, he couldn’t even keep it to himself if he tried.

“And just so we’re clear,” Smokescreen added, “I stole the phase shifter fair and square.”

Knock Out chuckled, he rubbed his optics.

“Rest your voice,” he said. “Let the patch finish its work.”

Smokescreen nodded, but his own smile faded.

“But Breakdown-”

“Rest,” Knock Out insisted. 

Breakdown’s imminent survival was also in the forefront of Knock Out’s concern. Never had the thought occurred to him that the terrorcon infection could still reside in Breakdown’s frame. What hope there was for him? Knock Out was completely at a loss.

“I will see to Breakdown,” Knock Out said, he refrained from sounding overly confident. Instead, he laid a servo on Smokescreen’s arm. “Make sure that patch finishes its work before you use that vocaliser. And Smokescreen-”

Smokescreen opened his optics and Knock Out could see it- those same optics as his newspark, once upon a time ago. They softened Knock Out. Right into his very spark. 

“Thank-you,” he whispered.

This time, Smokescreen did not look away. He didn’t flinch. And that’s all Knock Out could ever ask for.

 

Breakdown was in the main medbay unit- in the exact medslab where Megatron had laid when Knock Out had first been called to the _Nemesis._ Knock Out froze after walking through the automatic door, taken aback to see not just Ratchet, but Skyfire and an unfamiliar yet familiar face.

“ _Blades?_ ” Knock Out sputtered, approaching the group.

The other mech almost jumped off the ground out of shock. Still as jumpy as always.

“It’s been a while,” the medic named Blades replied.

“ _Quite_ a while,” Knock Out said with a nod. “How did you ever find your way back to Cybertron?”

“Through Bumblebee,” Blades responded, a little overly bashful. Knock Out raised a brow. “My, um, my Rescue Team is stationed on Earth.”

“This whole time!” Knock Out marvelled. 

It shouldn’t have been a shock that there had been other hidden Cybertronians on Earth but both he and Breakdown had certainly taken it for granted that Earth had been their special hideaway from the war. Who knew that somewhere on that small rock planet was a bot from Knock Out’s past.

In actuality, Knock Out was more surprised Blades had survived the war than anything else. He had never been a very forward bot, to which Knock Out had used to his advantage when they had been study buddies in medical school. 

Blades flustered, “I’m sorry about Breakdown. We were just discussing what we could do…”

Knock Out straightened his stature, suddenly attuned to both Skyfire and Ratchet. Knock Out studied their demeanour warily. He clenched his servos tight at his side.

“His entire frame is infected with the virus,” Ratchet stated, blunt. He wouldn’t look Knock Out in the optics. 

Knock Out surpressed a snarl. If they were trying to tell him that Breakdown was lost...

“It hasn’t infected his spark, however,” Skyfire added quickly. “But there isn’t a point in reviving him, if we can’t purify the body.”

“I’m not giving up on my sparkmate,” Knock Out cut in swiftly. He strode past them exuding confidence. He picked up one of the datapads on the counter with Breakdown’s stats. 

Speed-reading them, he concluded the same result as the other medics, even if he refused the reality of it.

“I know,” Ratchet replied. Knock Out could feel him lingering behind his shoulder-plating. “Which is why we’re going to remove his spark chamber _again._ ”

“His body can’t run on energon,” Blades continued. “His frame burns energon at an accelerated rate! And once near depletion he...” Knock Out caught his optics darting anxiously to the other two bots.

“Reverts to a terrorcon,” Ratchet said, grim.

Knock Out narrowed his brows. No. He wouldn’t accept this. Even if these were the facts, he would do _something_ to repair his sparkmate. Even without any other bots help.

He opened his mouthplate to proclaim this, but Skyfire spoke.

“But he might be able to run on _this._ ” 

Knock Out gasped when he saw what Ratchet held.

“The _Synth-En!?_ ” Knock Out exclaimed. “That stuff isn’t safe! It’s not perfected! _You_ know that better than I do!”

Both he and Ratchet had worked on the synthetic energon, based on the recipe from the Ancient Cybertronians during the end days of the war. But neither one of them had been able to perfect it. Even Knock Out recalled what it had done to Ratchet.

“But!” Skyfire picked up another datapad and loaded up a diagram. “If we can use the system I developed in the Shadowzone to drain useable energon from Shadowzone mirror-energon,” he insisted, “We might be able to dilute it enough to run through his frame… without the negative effects.”

Knock Out seized the datapad, staring at the mock-up energon. It was the same design Knock Out had seen while in Skyfire’s home in the Shadowzone-mirror of the _Harbringer._ Could this really be what they needed to perfect the Synth-En?

“So…” Knock Out narrowed his brow ridges. “If this actually works, Breakdown would have to solely consume Synth-En, or he would become an energon vampire again?”

“No,” Ratchet said. “This should _cure_ him of the virus.”

Knock Out’s servos tensed.

“In theory,” Blades said, “His frame should adapt to the diluted Synth-En. Then it could overpower the virus, eradicating it completely!”

Knock Out was speechless. Not only had the Autobots saved _him_ from the DJD, but now they were going to save Breakdown too. Breakdown, who quite openly, was not quite fitting in with the Autobots. Even so, they were still willing to help him. Never in Knock Out’s wildest dreams would he have expected such help.

“I…” Knock Out began, but words failed him.

“We’re going to do what we can to save your sparkmate,” Skyfire insisted. He placed his large servo on the back of Knock Out’s tires.

Ratchet’s stern tone stirred Knock Out from his swirling thoughts.

“But you won’t be joining the surgery.” 

“What!” Knock Out exclaimed, unaware of Skyfire’s servo now on his back, guiding him towards the door. “Of course I’m going to participate! I’m his sparkmate!”

“Excactly,” Ratchet said. “You’re too emotional and this is going to be a very delicate procedure.”

Knock Out shook his helm. “You can’t be serious! If you think-”

“We have a different task for you-” Ratchet cut him off. 

Blades approached Knock Out from the opposite side, handing something to Knock Out.

“-Something only _you_ can deal with,” Ratchet finished.

In Knock Out’s arms was the sparkling capsule. It was Knock Out’s own sparkling hovering in stasis inside. 

Oh yeah. This was still a thing.

“I can’t-” he started to protest, but he had already been pushed out the medbay doors… the small _click_ of the lock was his final answer.

 

Arcee was in a room with a few other bots, all of them recovering from their injuries of the battle. She wasn’t sure how long she had been out for, but she was feeling surprisingly well rested when she awoke.

Mainly because Airachnid was dead. 

What a drastic comparison to when she had awoken on the medslab at Hanger E after the failed attempt to kill Airachnid on Luna 2. She could recall all the rage that still boiled in the pit of her being, how it had entangled her with its cruel hold and how she was certain life wasn’t fair for allowing the murderess to live.

But now, finally, Arcee was now in a world where the war was over, and Airachnid was no longer a threat. 

She shut her optics and in her processor's optic, she could see Cliffjumper. Whether or not she knew it then, he wasn’t as clear in her mind as he had been before. It was no longer a mental image of him where she could count every scratch but instead an illustration of how she had known him, maybe his horns a little larger than they had been, his grin a little wider. Time had passed, and time was healing her.

She smiled.

 _This_ was what she had strived for all along.

“Arcee!”

Bumblebee was standing by a tall femme with a high crest who must’ve been a medic from Elita One’s ship.

“Glad to see you up! I knew you wouldn’t be out long,” he said.

“Did I miss anything?” she asked while rubbing her shoulder joints. “Any casualties?”

“None,” Bumblebee replied, walking over to her. He sounded a little incredulous. “Having a bunch of medics on duty does help too.”

“Speaking of medics, how’s Knock Out?” Arcee slipped off the med slab and stretched her legs.

“Hasn’t awoken yet that I’m aware of,” Bumblebee replied. “But honestly, I’m more worried about the whole Breakdown thing. I had no idea they were actually sparkmates! I mean, I just assumed-”

“I’ve learned not to assume a whole lot about Decepticons,” Arcee said. “Including former ones. I’m proud of you, ‘Bee. For standing up for Knock Out in front of the DJD.”

Bumblebee shook his helm. “It’s what Optimus would have done-” and then as if he just realised whose name he spoke, he caught himself awkwardly. 

“It was what _you_ did,” Arcee corrected. “Your decision. But Optimus would definitely be proud.”

Bumblebee gave no response.

“What are you going to do about Ratchet? Or Elita?” There was no point in treading cautiously, not anymore.

“I don’t know, Arcee.” Bumblebee’s shoulders slumped. “What can I even do or say? What’s done is done. It’s kind of like you said to me before. Life isn’t over. We just have to continue forward.”

“True,” Arcee said. “But that doesn’t mean we ignore what’s important to us. Don’t bury yourself in your duties, ‘Bee. Talk to Ratchet. Don’t turn into him.”

“How can I forgive him?” 

“Maybe it’s not about forgiveness,” Arcee said. She stared at the floor. Suddenly her journey was clear to her. “Maybe it’s about forging on, but not at the expense of leaving behind what’s important, even if it hurts.”

“He lied to me.”

“I don’t think you should give up on Ratchet,” she said softly. She looked him in the optics. “And you know, I may not know anything about sparklings, but I doubt Optimus was completely in the dark.”

“You don’t know that.” Bumblebee no longer met her gaze.

“No, I don’t,” she replied. “But I knew Optimus well enough and anyone of us would tell you he treated you like his own newspark more than any of us. That’s what’s important.”

“I wish I’d known,” Bumblebee said, and he folded his arms around himself.

“From you and Ratchet, to Bulkhead and Breakdown, even myself, we’ve all made mistakes, Bumblebee. It’s up to you to decide which ones are important.” 

She patted his arm.

“Whether he knew or not, he knew we were all _family_ ,” she said, giving him an encouraging smile. “And it’s only getting bigger with bots like Knock Out and Breakdown joining us. Maybe even other bots… like that orange and white one I saw in the battlefield… looked an awful like that one I saw you talking with by the spacebridge after you went missing…”

“Arcee!” Bumblebee exclaimed.

Arcee let out a laugh. “Hey, I know a thing or two now that I’ve been hanging around Knock Out,” she said with a teasing grin. 

“We’re just… _friends._ ” But his glowing faceplate completely contradicted this.

She laughed again, delighted to see Bumblebee at ease. 

“Secret _rendezvous_ friend, maybe.”

“ _Arcee!_ ”

 

“You don’t know how badly I need a drink right now.” Knock Out’s vocaliser was monotone.

She found him sitting on the floor of his suite. His back to the wall, almost hidden by the bench in the middle of the room. His suite wasn’t messy as it had been when she had first walked into his suite for the first time. But even so, there he sat.

Knock Out lifted the glass in his servo to his mouthplate, drinking. 

“According to Breakdown, I’m on hi-grade duty now that we’re friends,” Arcee said. “So I’m going to assume that glass is clean.”

“Did he?” Knock Out looked as if he wanted to smile, but didn’t. “I thought you were supposed to be the _cool_ friend.”

“I- oh!” Arcee shuttered her optics in shock. 

She wasn’t even able to give a sarcastic retort because behind the bench was something she had not expected to see. 

It was a newspark. 

Noticing her approach, the newspark looked up at her. It’s little optics turned and adjusted, taking in any and all new data. But when Arcee did not move, it turned back to its datapad.

“There’s no newspark toys on this fragging ship,” Knock Out drawled, chinguard in servo. 

“That… was yours?” Arcee asked, unsure why she needed verbal confirmation.

“It transformed almost as soon as I took it out of the capsule.” Knock Out drank a long sip this time. 

Arcee slid him a sly glance. “But you knew it would transform when you took it out of the capsule.” She sat down on the floor next to him, but still able to watch the newspark.

“I can’t lose him, Arcee. I’m not equipped to deal with that.” She could hear the tremble in his vocaliser. “I’m trusting them, I’m trusting them completely to save him.”

“Ratchet’s trying to reverse the terrorcon infection in Breakdown?” Arcee asked.

Knock Out just sipped the last of his non-hi-grade energon.

“If anybot can do it, Ratchet can,” Arcee replied. “Look at what they- we did to save you. They won’t give up on him.”

Knock Out placed the glass down next to him and watched the newspark play with the datapad.

“I’ve never had to trust bots before like I’ve had in the past few orns,” he said, somber. “Can’t say I’m used to it.” He glanced at her. “But I can finally say I can see the appeal of the Autobots.”

“Kind of the opposite of the Decepticons, huh?” Arcee said playfully. She folded her arms around her legs.

“I’d say,” Knock Out replied. “Did you know Megatron wanted to abandon Breakdown when he was captured by the humans?”

“And you remember who went after him, don’t you?” she prodded.

“Why do you think he did that? After trying to kill Breakdown, why would Bulkhead go rescue him? Or mentor Smokescreen?” Knock Out asked, he ran his digit around the rim of the glass.

“You know why. And so does Breakdown.”

Knock Out said nothing and the two watched the newspark play.

“It’s a shame you can’t have Cliffjumper back.”

“Cliffjumper died a long time ago,” Arcee replied. “I loved him. I’ll always miss him. But I’m not going to chase ghosts anymore.”

“I still remember that hunger in your optics when I asked you to come hunt down Airachnid with me,” he said.

“I wanted her dead because I wanted revenge, for her to suffer how I did, for losing Cliffjumper and Tailgate.” She shook her helm. “But now, I wanted her gone to prevent any _other_ bot from being hurt by her. And death was the only way with her. That was her choice.”

“She’s dead?” He looked at her with wide optics, bewildered.

“I shot her into the Allspark when I fell off of Soundwave. She was down there, chased after me when she saw me fall. She’d snuck aboard the DJD’s ship,” she explained.

“Frag.” She heard him take in a sharp vent of air. “You really cleaned up in that battlefield, didn’t you?”

Arcee laughed, stretching out her legs. “I think I deserve a vacation from all this fighting.”

“I’ll join you,” Knock Out said, brows raised. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’d like to see Cybertron return to a normal routine.”

Arcee raised a curious brow.

“I never really benefitted from the planet until it was gone,” he said, a little flatly.

“Well,” she replied. “It’s going to be different this time, I believe in Bumblebee. Do you think you’ll stay?” 

Knock Out paused, clearly thinking. 

“I need to know what Breakdown wants,” he said finally. “We’re a team.”

“I hope you’ll stay,” Arcee said. “I could do with a bot who gets my sarcasm.”

Knock Out glanced at her from over his shoulder plating. 

“Seeing as how I’m going to be a knocked-up and tied-down family mech, I’m going to need a free spirit _friend_ like you.”

Never in all of Arcee’s years would she ever thought she’d smile at a Decepticon- be friends with a Decepticon. Well, she wasn’t, because Knock Out had made it clear. He was an Autobot, he had been the moment he turned on Starscream.

They lost track of time chatting back and forth. It wasn’t long either until they were both interacting with the curious newspark. Arcee would hide an object under a canister and have the newspark guess which one it was under after she rearranged them while Knock Out would give it encouraging nods and congratulatory scratches under its chin.

Arcee recalled how long ago, she was supposed to have owned one of these, but was glad she had missed out on such a responsibility. Playing with this one wasn’t too bad, mostly because it was somebot else’s.

Eventually, Knock Out received _the call_. It was a message over comm-link from Ratchet.

“You should come to the medbay,” was all he had said. 

She exchanged a look with Knock Out before the two started over, the newspark with them.

 

Ratchet was outside the medbay, with Skyfire, Blades and Bumblebee. Newspark in his arms, Knock Out approached them.

“Well?” he pressed, a little too aggressively. He looked to each for an answer.

“He’s waiting for you,” Ratchet said.

“Go on,” Arcee insisted, and reached for his newspark. “I’ll hang on to this one.”

Knock Out raced inside the medbay.

Breakdown sat up in the medslab.

“Knock Out!”

He was at his side in a shutter of an optic.

“Primus, they saved you,” Knock Out gasped. “I can’t believe they did it.”

“Don’t tell me I died again,” Breakdown said, adding a laugh.

Knock Out shook his helm, overwhelmed. “Frag, Breakdown, you’ve got to stop doing this.”

For a moment, they stared at each other from across the room. Wildly, it brought Knock Out back, to the very first time he had seen Breakdown, their optics attracting each other in a curious need. The softness of Breakdown’s optic complimented his own powering fierceness, it lured him in.

“Come here.” 

With his bulky arms, Breakdown drew Knock Out in for an embrace. Knock Out buried his faceplate into Breakdown, allowing himself to be completely enveloped in his senses. 

“I was so frightened I couldn’t fix you this time,” he spoke, a whisper. He felt Breakdown’s gentle pats along his back, easing him. “I would never have you back if it weren’t for the Autobots. I owe them _everything._ ”

He sought Breakdown’s yellow optic, needing them more than he ever had or so he felt. 

“You said they brought me back the first time,” Breakdown said.

Knock Out traced one of the lines on Breakdown’s frames with his digit. 

“They saved me from the DJD, they saved you from the terrorcon virus in your system, they did it all without wanting anything in return. Do you see now?” Knock Out said, insistent. “Why I chose them? The secrets I kept, that was of my own doing and not because of them. The Autobots never changed me. They made me better.”

“Yeah?” Breakdown’s low rumble of a vocaliser sent shivers down Knock Out’s frame. He hadn’t heard his vocaliser enough in the past days. 

“Your loss taught me accountability and I am sorry I ever hurt you, my love.” Knock Out clung to his sparkmate tighter.

“I’m not mad you slept with Starscr-”

Knock Out applied a digit to Breakdown’s mouthplate.

“I wouldn’t word it so eloquently, my dear,” he said, stifling a laugh. “I would say half a frag and by all accounts, I thought you were dead.”

“No more secrets, Breakdown.” Knock Out stroked the back of Breakdown’s helm. “Being with the Decepticons may have seemed like the easier choice, but in the long run, it cost us dearly. Only because of the Autobots are we reunited. In the end, they were the winning side after all.”

Breakdown laughed and leaned into Knock Out’s touch. 

“They’re not all bad, I guess,” Breakdown said. He pulled Knock Out’s servo into his, and rubbed it gently. “I like your friend’s sense of humour. And she gives some good advice.”

“Arcee’s definitely my favourite of the bunch,” Knock Out said with a grin. “Speaking of which… Arcee?” 

He called out loud enough for her to hear on the other side of the doors. She entered the room, carrying his newspark and brought it over to Knock Out. With an encouraging pat on his arms, Arcee left them to their privacy again.

The newspark immediately studied Breakdown, its’ little optics sweeping up and down and all over Breakdown. Then as if it understood who Breakdown was, it let out a loud trill followed by several delighted chirps and beeps. It reached for Breakdown while excitedly wiggling its audio receptors. 

“And who’s this?” Breakdown asked.

Knock Out passed it to Breakdown, who cradled it in his arms.

“Congratulations,” Knock Out said. “It’s yours.”

Breakdown poked the little newspark gently with a large digit. The newspark immediately latched onto the digit and began drooling on him. 

Breakdown chuckled. “Ours?”

Knock Out shuttered his optics, then started straight at his sparkmate. “Ours.”

“I know you,” Breakdown said. “You don’t change your mind often. What gives?”

Knock Out folded his arms. 

“As I said, I made terrible decisions on the _Nemesis_. And one of those decisions was not sticking together. I’d be a fool to let that happen again.” He shook his helm. “Whatever happens with this one, I’ll have you.”

“You know I’ll follow you wherever you go, don’t you?” Breakdown drew Knock Out closer, tighter.

“Even staying here on Cybertron?” Knock Out asked.

Breakdown was silent. He even glanced down at the newspark who had curled up and powered down after spending so much energy.

“Do you think they’ll have me after that brawl?” Breakdown returned.

Knock Out waved a servo lazily. “Who doesn’t engage in a good brawl every now and then? Besides, after spending as much time with them as I have, I have a feeling Bumblebee is the forgiving sort.”

Breakdown pulled Knock Out closer and kissed him. At first he was taken aback by how sudden the action was, but instantly, Knock Out shut his optics, pushing into Breakdown’s greedy kiss. But he allowed Breakdown to guide, falling into each kiss of his, just grateful that he still had his lover, the other half of his spark. 

When Breakdown parted, their mouthplates lingering together for one precious moment, he tapped his helm gently to his. So close, they sought each other’s optics and Knock Out felt him overcome with the reality that he had almost lost his sparkmate forever. 

“I love you, you know,” he said.

The light of his red optics reflected off of Breakdown’s faceplate.

“I’ll always love you,” Breakdown whispered.

They’d been together for millions of years, through the discrimination of friends and society, through the destruction of their planet and through all of space and here they were at the end of it all, together against all obstacles.

Knock Out felt like he could just melt and swoon underneath his lover’s gentle, yellow optic. They were perfect and all he sought for in life. Because within that yellow, Knock Out was whole.

The doors opening alerted them to a guest entering.

“Uh, hey.”

It was Smokescreen. 

He still wore a patch around his pipes but his vocaliser sounded normal. 

“Ratchet gave me the go ahead,” he said to Knock Out, but his optics darted to Breakdown, then to the newspark. “He said you were awake, that you were, uh, gonna be okay.”

“Suppose so,” Breakdown said. “Gotta say, I’m getting a bit tired of all these blackouts and waking up in medslabs. Due for a bit of a drive myself.”

Smokescreen stepped forwards. “Hey, maybe I could take you up on that offer sometime.”

Breakdown and Knock Out exchanged intrigued glances. 

“You also said you know how to weld, I mean, I could never quite figure out how to get the temperature right,” he gave a nervous laugh. Then he saw the newspark, who startled to awake and fuss in Breakdown’s arms.

Smokescreen’s optics widened. “Is that… that’s my…” he neared the three of them. “So what’d you name it?” 

“Don’t know yet,” Breakdown replied. “I suppose we could look into the spark to get an idea. What do you say?”

Knock Out placed a servo on his waist and grinned. “I named the last one,” he jerked a digit at Smokescreen. “It’s your turn now.”

“Well, little one,” Breakdown said, propping the newspark in his arms. “Let’s take a look and see what you’ve got, huh?”

Knock Out glanced at Smokescreen, his first heir now standing closer than he ever had before now peering at the newspark curiously. He then glanced at Breakdown, his sparkmate, alive, safe, happy. Then at Knock Out’s new heir, so small but with little grabby servos, shifting its optics between all the bots around it with a delighted smile.

And Knock Out smiled too.

 

_**(The Flashback. . . Before the War)** _

“And what’s your name?” Knock Out leaned against the bar, into the view of the mech who had just saved him from a bar brawl beating. 

The mech looked him up and down, but did not smile. After a pause, he spoke.

“The name’s Bulkhead,” he said, gruff. 

But Knock Out was no longer looking at him. His optics swept past and locked onto his friend. The second mech had not done much to save him from the brawl other than throw around a few mean looks to any bots on the verge of participating in kicking Knock Out out of the bar. 

This wasn’t the first time Knock Out had noticed this particular mech.

“Breakdown,” the mech replied and immediately took a long drink from his canister.

Knock Out smiled. 

“Well, Breakdown, I appreciate you intervening on my behalf.” 

The canister was still to Breakdown’s mouth as he stared back. He didn’t move, as if caught in time.

His buddy, Bighead or whatever he called himself leaned into Knock Out’s view. “Look, this might not be the best bar for you. This is a _working_ class bar.”

Knock Out rested his chinguard in his servo, undeterred. 

“How do you think I afford my drinks?” he retorted.

The entire bar was filled with bots like Dumbhead and Breakdown- large, bulky bots with even larger alt modes. Most of these bots worked manual jobs, it was an obvious contrast compared to the bots from the University Knock Out attended. But that’s exactly why Knock Out sought out bars in this part of town, these were exactly the kinds of bots Knock Out preferred. Only not all of them were friendly to having a small seeker in their midst. Even so, more than a few of them were willing to spend a night or two with him and that’s all Knock Out wanted.

“All I’m saying,” the green one said, “Is what you just got was a warning, and here’s your second: this _isn’t_ the place for your kind.”

But Knock Out had completely tuned him out. He was used to the whole ‘your kind’ thing. If he didn’t hear it here, he heard it at the University. It seemed like every place on Cybertron wasn’t the place for ‘his kind’. Even the seeker towers and his own trine were on edge with him for attending a bot university.

What a bore. It was all a fact of life for him, so why waste your life dwelling on it? Especially when there were more fun activities out there.

Ignoring Bulkhead completely, Knock Out locked optics with the blue quiet one who was pretending- and failing at- staring into the depth of the empty canister.

 

“I thought you two lived at the same tower, yet here you are, walking home alone.”

Knock Out smiled, amused as Breakdown startled when he transformed out of his alt mode, landing next to him.

“You stalking me?” Breakdown grunted. He didn’t break stride.

“I simply wanted to thank you personally.” Knock Out noticed the increase in Breakdown’s stride but he kept up with ease.

Breakdown didn’t respond but Knock Out scrutinised every reaction from the corner of his optics. Yes, there it was. A flush of colour tinged Breakdown’s faceplate. Knock Out grinned.

“You thanked me in the bar,” Breakdown replied, staring forwards.

Knock Out pursed his mouthplate. “I said _properly_. Without your friend.”

There was a hesitation in Breakdown’s next step and he glanced at Knock Out briefly. 

“Yeah. Okay.” Breakdown swallowed loud enough for Knock Out to hear. “You’re welcome.”

Knock Out raised a brow, intrigued by this mech’s demeanour. He wasn’t really into the shy ones, they were too much work and the attention was always on them. But it wasn’t timidness he was picking up from Breakdown. No, it was…. Oh no. No. Suddenly, Knock Out lost all interest in this bot.

“Well, it was pleasant chatting with you, but I have places to be,” he said with a tired sigh. In one swift jump, Knock Out leapt into the air transforming into his seeker jet mode.

Breakdown jumped back and blurted, “Hey, wait! What?”

“I’m nobot’s first,” he drawled. “I’m everybot’s _best._ ”

He should have just flown away without waiting for a response. After all, this mech was giving off all kinds of red flags. Clearly, to Knock Out, this bot had probably never been with a mech before and Knock Out was not interested in playing teacher. 

But something made Knock Out wait, just that slight half a beat. Even if he didn’t know at the time, it was that yellow, that yellow of Breakdown’s optics, the clung to his just long enough to hear...

Breakdown didn’t flush like Knock Out would have expected. Instead, his brow ridges narrowed and he clenched his fists. 

“I’ve been around,” he retorted. “I’ve played both sides more’n once.”

Knock Out reconsidered, taken aback but Breakdown’s change in disposition. 

Breakdown let out a huff of air. Despite his aggressive stance, he did not exude any anger.

“How do you expect a bot to act when a bot like you comes onto him?” he said.

“Like me?”

“Hot.”

Knock Out transformed, landing in front of Breakdown skillfully. He rested a single servo to his waist drawing attention to his magnificently crafted frame.

“If that’s the case,” he replied. “Then maybe you can help me with my wing. It could use the attention of a medkit after that brawl.”

Breakdown’s grin caused Knock Out’s spark to pulse suddenly inside his chassis. Confused by the reaction, Knock Out’s own expression faltered, minutely. He was normally fully in control but something about Breakdown made him feel giddy at the expense of his own self-control.

“Well, it just so happens, I got one in my suite.” Breakdown took a step towards him. 

Knock Out’s optics swept all over Breakdown massive frame as he towered over him. Perhaps some seekers would have been intimidated by such a large mech, but not Knock Out. No, this was exactly how Knock Out liked them.

His smile spread further. “Well, big bot, lead the way.”

 

Knock Out plunged his glossa deeper, sliding between Breakdown’s hot, wet mouthplate. His servos trailed all over Breakdown’s frame, his digits lightly scratching as he tested his boundaries with this new mech. 

And he was thrilled to discover this mech would shiver and moan, taking pleasure in the rougher cuts and sharp grip of Knock Out’s claws. He too basked in the feel of Breakdown’s own servos exploring his frame. He pushed into each curve, eagerly permitting Breakdown to wander lower and lower, pushing in between his thighs.

Shutting his optics tight, Knock Out pushed into the touch, gritting his dentae as a delectable shiver trickled through his frame. He ran his claws deeper along Breakdown sides, casting aside any boundry test and instead losing himself in the touch he craved. 

While most bots had pushed away in disgust, he felt Breakdown pant heavily and push his digit in further, harder.

Knock Out opened one optic to study his playtoy. He picked a good one after all, he thought. 

“You’re different, aren’t you,” Knock Out purred his vocaliser. He knew it would entice Breakdown to look at him, exactly what he wanted. “You like to have _fun_ ,” and he flicked his digit underneath Breakdown’s chinguard, leaving a sharp mark.

“C’mere,” Breakdown huffed, grabbing him by the waist and pushing him down into the berth. “‘Show you what I prefer-” and he lowered his helm between his legs to….

Knock Out’s claws tore into the berth from the surge of pleasure filling him. His optics fought between shutting tight and opening wide. 

Clearly, Knock Out was not Breakdown’s first.

When Breakdown pressed himself against Knock Out, finding his mouthplate again to kiss, Knock Out felt eagerly compelled to slip over onto his front.

But as he started to do so, Breakdown pinned him to his front with his look alone. Yes, Knock Out hesitated in what he wanted tonight. Instead, his spark swelled inside from being so admired. It sent a rush through him, straight to his faceplate, tinging him with colour.

“Never seen a mech like you,” Breakdown huffed. “Saw you the moment you walked in that bar an orn ago.”

“You should’ve said hi,” Knock Out said, full of seductive endeavour. 

Breakdown seemed to breath all of that flirtatious air in. “I like it when you come to me.”

Knock Out wrapped his arms all around Breakdown’s wide frame and pulled him close, kissing on his pipes, nipping and sucking, anything to melt this large mech to his desires.

It wasn’t long before the two merged physically, unable to resist each other any longer.

Knock Out didn’t like to be face to face with his one night stands, but for some reason, he didn’t care tonight. In fact, the thought never even crossed his mind. Instead, he lost himself completely in the intensity of the moment. In doing so, Breakdown was something more than a toy, what he basked in that night, it was shared between them- something Knock Out had never done before. He wouldn’t even realise it until the flight home after this night.

In the moment, Knock Out revelled in every touch, every feel and even every kiss between them. For the first time in his life, Knock Out was sharing something and it drove his entire being straight into his spark. It burned brighter within him than it ever had. It was both intoxicating and dizzying how this mech could make him feel.

And every so often, Knock Out would open his optics and see Breakdown’s. Damn that yellow, it was an experience like no other. It drew him in, shedding his obsession for control over a lover, no, he’d never had a lover. A toy. But Breakdown was more than that tonight and Knock Out couldn’t explain it.

But it overcame him straight into the overload. 

He gasped, venting air faster than ever. Had he ever experienced an overload quite like this? The rush was exhilarating and so overwhelming he didn’t even hear himself moan his partner’s name. 

His claws released Breakdown’s arms reluctantly as the calm arose. No, Knock Out was intent on experiencing every lasting moment because as fulfilling as the overload was between them, Knock Out knew he’d crave it again….

 

“You’re leaving?”

Knock Out froze just outside of Breakdown’s showering room. 

He’d never been asked that before. 

“Of course,” he replied. “I never stay the night.”

Breakdown was silent but Knock Out could see him thinking. He wanted to say something, something he was having difficulty wording. It could only be one thing, Knock Out surmised, so he decided to help him out.

“There isn’t much else to do while on cooldown,” he said slyly.

“I’ll give you my comm-link,” Breakdown blurted out. 

Knock Out shuttered his optics. How different this was playing out! Yes, Knock Out had definitely picked a different one but the surprises kept coming.

They had chatted all the way back to Breakdown’s suite in the construction tower he lived in. It was so out of the ordinary for Knock Out, after all, what did he care about the bots he slept with. The less he knew the better. But conversation had come easily to him with Breakdown. There had been a natural flow of dialogue that Knock Out willingly became swept up in. 

Breakdown was funny, beyond that, he was empathetic. Because he had actually brought out a real medkit to help repair Knock Out’s ‘sore’ wing from the brawl. Knock Out had laughed brashly but then had realised Breakdown actually wanted to help, as well as frag. No, he hadn’t been _that_ naive.

It really should have scared Knock Out, the intensity of Breakdown’s compassion. Knock Out wasn’t looking for actual involvement. But the way Breakdown was, those soft yellow optics, he was constantly drawn to them. Instead, the attention that Breakdown put onto him, excited Knock Out. It was the opposite of what he feared, it was exciting to be the centre of this bots attention.

That had certainly stirred him up for the main event but now…

… Now Breakdown stood in the middle of his modest suite, not wanting him to go…

… and Knock Out was completely enthused.

“Alright,” he said, cautious. “I’m game for a round two.”

They exchanged details and when Knock Out left the suite, he actually kept the comm-link. 

Breakdown intrigued him, what more, the _feelings_ Breakdown stirred inside Knock Out intrigued him. They were new and they felt _so right_. Because it was not just the interfacing Knock Out looked forwards to next time they met. Breakdown’s grin, his puns and his laughter all compelled Knock Out into seeking him out again. Above all that even, his optics. 

There was so much within other than how they admired him. 

Even now, as Knock Out back to the University, he felt his spark pulse quicken. 

There was no way he could have known, but this was the start of something not just altogether different or new, but of importance. Not just for Knock Out or Breakdown but for those he didn’t even know, and of those yet to come. The spark he felt with this mech was beyond an inner compulsion to follow this through, but also a signal. 

A signal that it was all happening.


	20. Epilogue: A Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you to everyone. Everyone who read, liked, kudos, commented and complimented on my story. It means the world to me and puts a smile on my face. Thank-you all.

The view was breathtaking.

He withdrew a long vent of air while feeling the breeze buffet his faceplate. Knock Out never tired of the panoramic cityscape. In the midday sun, Iacon sparkled from the sunlight reflecting off the metal skyscrapers. The light dazzled and twinkled across his optics, the perfect sight he’d always sought his entire life. He’d seen the skyline so many times, as a seeker from their towers on the outskirts of the city, but as pretty as it could look, dressed up by the setting suns, it never looked the way it did today. 

Down below, bots, new and returning, went about their day. 

“A little anxious, maybe?”

Arcee’s call-out quips always had a way of putting him at ease. 

“Me? I’m not the one taking the test,” he replied with smooth ease. He leaned against the banister, an attempt to prove his point. 

Arcee raised a dubious brow ridge.

“I’m sure she’ll do fine, she’s a lot like Breakdown,” she said. She sipped from her glass. “They both excel under pressure.”

“Are you sure about that?” Knock Out cringed. “Weren’t you there during her transformation day?”

“Breakdown was more calm than you were,” she retorted.

They shared laughter while reminiscing. It wasn’t even that long ago, Knock Out thought. How time had flown! It wasn’t even just the rebuilding of Cybertron, but Knock Out’s own life too. 

Now, he had a respectable medical practice and earned enough to live in a lavish penthouse suite with enough rooms for not just himself and Breakdown, but both his heirs too should they decide to visit. And today, they were hosting more than just them.

Immediately, Knock Out could hear Breakdown’s raucous laughter as Smokescreen retold a recent story from his adventures as a member of the reinstated Elite Guard. He postured grandly in his retelling, enjoying how Bulkhead, Wheeljack and Ultra Magnus hung on every word. 

Even Ratchet chuckled as he poured himself another glass of energon. 

“I didn’t think he was going to come, to be honest,” Arcee said. Even though they were apart from the rest of the party, she kept her voice low. “Even after we set up all the Newsparks into instant transformation and into the Newly Transformed Adult Program, he still returned to Earth.”

Knock Out studied Ratchet. True, he may have again chosen to stay on Earth, but there was something different about the old mech. He may still be a grumpy loner, but when Ratchet had told Team Prime he was going to stay on Earth, it had been different, because he had looked straight at them. Knock Out recognised that Ratchet was no longer outcasting himself, but had instead made a choice that made him happy. And for that, Knock Out admired him. 

Knock Out had done the same thing. He had chosen Cybertron instead of Earth. He even astounded himself with his decision for he could still remember the day after the Institute Tower had crumbled, Breakdown with it. That day, Knock Out had sworn they would never return. Earth had become their safe haven. They had hidden themselves from the world, from all of their own kind, and they had been happy. But the happiness Knock Out experienced now, was worlds better. 

Because now, he was surrounded by _friends._ Even ones he never thought he’d want to see alive again and they were all here for his heir’s party. He never thought a future like this could be possible. 

“How are your boys?” he asked. 

“You mean my _mentees_ from the Newly Transformed Adult Program?” Arcee shot him another look but then sighed. “The one’s a model and pretty happy with it. He reminds me a lot of you actually,” she slid him a dry look. “It’s the other one I’m a little more worried about. How do I put it? He’s not really a rule-follower. And he won’t stop the chatter either.”

“So a little like Cliffjumper?” Knock Out held his digits barely a width apart.

She punched him lightly on his shoulder. 

“Ratchet might not have selected the twins for me without reason,” she admitted. “They give me a run, but it keeps me busy. But not busy enough for today.”

It was then that the front doors _whooshed_ open and _she_ bounded into the room in one leap.

“I did it!!” she exclaimed. She waved the datapad with the results above her head too frantically for anybot to actually see. “I passed the exams!” 

Everybot in the room rushed towards her in one big wave. Knock Out and Arcee too joined the crowd. 

“Congratulations!”

“I knew you had it in you!”

“Good job, kid!”

“Yeah, I knew you’d do it!”

Knock Out couldn’t even see her past Ratchet, Bulkhead, Wheeljack, Ultra Magnus and Smokescreen surrounding her until she was hoisted into the air by Breakdown.

“Congratulations, Strongarm! I knew you’d pass the police exams!” he exclaimed joyously. 

Knock Out’s heir beamed with giddy excitement scanning the crowd. 

“I’m a cadet now!” she said, bouncing on the tips of her pedes when Breakdown placed her back down. “I can’t believe it!”

“You’ll be on the Elite Guard with me before you know it!” Smokescreen said, slapping a servo to her back. 

“I just can’t believe it, I was so nervous!” she continued. “But, oh my gosh, you won’t even believe whose team I’ve been placed on!”

It was then that Bumblebee walked through the doors. He was different now, having undergone a new transformation.

“It wasn’t even my decision,” he said. “But the chief felt that we’d be a good fit for each other. So looks like we’re partners.”

“It’ll be an honour to serve with one of Cybertron’s greatest, sir!” and she snapped into a salute. 

Everybot laughed, even Knock Out. 

“You better take good care of her, ‘Bee,” Bulkhead said. “Just because the war’s over doesn’t mean the streets are clean!”

Breakdown laughed, “With all the iron my girl pumps, she’ll be taking care of _him_ \- look at those guns!”

Strongarm flushed, but flexed her arms then lifted Breakdown off the ground. Everybot clapped and laughed. 

“I’m not worried about you either,” Knock Out said. 

The crowd parted for him as he strode towards his heir. Strongarm straightened, looking down on her sire.

“I’m going to make you proud, Knock Out,” she said and puffed out her chassis. “No bots will ever remember you or Breakdown were once Decepticons.”

The crowd had fallen silent, including Breakdown. But Knock Out shook his helm.

“History can’t be erased,” he said. He reached out for Breakdown, taking his servo in his. “We want you to write your own instead. Besides, if we hadn’t once been Decepticons, we wouldn’t be standing in front of you today, completely proud of you already.”

He could see Strongarm visually swell before she caved and grabbed both him and Breakdown in a hard hug. 

“I love you guys,” she said. “You’re the best sires a bot could ever ask for!”

Smokescreen, too, had an equally proud smile on his faceplate.

Knock Out looked to each of his heirs, then to his sparkmate. Overcome by the moment, he turned away, shuttering his optics twice. 

“In all my life, I’ve never been happier than today,” he said. He felt a small servo touch his arm lightly. “Thank-you, for giving us a second chance.”

“Knock Out, you contributed more than you know,” she said with a kind smile. “You deserve this. We all do.”

“Optimus would be proud of us right now,” Bumblebee added. “And so am I.”

Yes, it was because of Optimus Prime that Knock Out had been accepted into Team Prime, that Knock Out was standing here today, but it was more than that. It had been each and every one of them, and every decision each of them had made up until this point that had guided them to today. Including their losses. All of it, for the better. What a long and wild path it had been, each experiencing their own ups and downs. 

Knock Out turned to his heir. “Congratulations, Strongarm,” he gave her a gentle embrace. “Go make history, on your own terms.”

But it was worth it. It had all been worth it. And Knock Out couldn’t have been more grateful. Whatever the future held for him, he’d always have today. He’d always have all these new bots in his life: from Ultra Magnus to Ratchet and Bumblebee, even Wheeljack and Bulkhead, his heirs, Strongarm and Smokescreen, to his close friend and sparkmate, Arcee and Breakdown. Team Prime would always be there for each other.

Because that’s the family they created, no matter what became of the future.


End file.
